Chapter 14

14

M y warden definitely has a drinking problem. It's late when he creeps down the stairs, reeking of booze and carrying a six pack of bottled beer in his hands. He doesn't turn on the light, and from the way he tries to quietly drag the folding chair closer to the bars- tries being the operative word here, since he has all the grace of a drunken elephant- I realize that he must think I'm asleep. He's trying not to wake me. Which leads me to wonder why he came down here in the first place, but far be it for me to question the man's motives. He's clearly got a few screws loose.

He hisses a curse under his breath as the metal leg of the folding chair bangs against the bars noisily, and I finally give up on pretending I'm snoozing, folding at the waist to sit up in the cot.

"What are you doing?" I ask, too curious to hear why the hell he's decided to post up outside my cell in the middle of the night.

Cam drops into the chair, fumbling to set the six pack down on the floor at his feet. "Did I wake you?" he asks, flicking me a glance.

"Nah, I don't sleep much these days," I comment, smoothing back my bedraggled hair with my fingers. "Since I'm being held captive against my will, and all."

He makes a scoffing sound in his throat as he reaches for a beer, twisting off the cap and tossing it to the floor with a clink. He still doesn't answer my question as to what he's doing here, though. He just raises the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig before lowering it and wiping his mouth off on an inked forearm. Then, to my surprise, he reaches down to grab a second beer, cracking the top and leaning forward to stick it through the bars in offering.

His dark-eyed stare burns into mine, the shadows clinging to the sharp features of his handsome face. I'm not sure if this is some trick, but damnit it's been a long time since I've had a beer. It's far too tempting to resist. Twisting to set my feet on the floor, I push up from the cot, padding over to the bars and tentatively reaching out to take it from him. Our fingers brush, little zaps of electricity zinging between our skin.

Cam retracts his hand abruptly and I back away from the bars, the chilly condensation coating the beer bottle sliding between my fingers. Returning to my cot, I drop down on the edge, scooching back and tucking my feet up underneath me.

For a few minutes, we sit there in silence, sipping our beers like we're just a couple of friends or something. Not a warden and a captive. Not mortal enemies, bound to destroy one another. Then again, the bars between us serve as a constant reminder of the truth; that to him, I'm a creature locked in a cage, and to me, he's a murderous bigot. If this were Beauty and the Beast, I'd be the beast, and he'd be Gaston. This definitely isn't a fairytale. I stifle a chuckle at that thought, taking another sip of my beer.

"What's so funny?" Cam murmurs, glaring at me through the darkness.

I roll my eyes, the carbonation tickling my throat as I swallow. "Nothing."

The dude probably hasn't even seen Disney movies. The fact that he willingly joined this misguided group of zealots doesn't exactly scream happy childhood .

The shadows dance across the muscle in his jaw as it feathers. "I took care of the guy that threatened you," he rasps in a low, gravelly tone. "You don't have to worry about him coming down here again."

I stare back at him, my brows furrowing in question. "Why?"

Cam raises his beer bottle to his lips, taking a long swig before answering me, and I can't help but stare at the way his lips curve as they wrap around the rim. Or the way he licks them after he swallows. "Because I'm your handler," he finally says, dropping his empty beer bottle into the cardboard sleeve and pulling out a fresh one. Dang, he drank that fast. "Griff went against protocol by coming down here without my permission."

Of course. Not like he'd defend my honor or anything. The guy is no white knight; he's the villain in my story.

I just nod, casually sipping at my beer as he cracks the top on his second one. The split in my lip stings as I wipe my mouth off on my wrist, squinting at him through the darkness and trying to decipher the strange mix of emotions that always seems to be brewing behind his eyes.

What is it that he's constantly trying to drink away?

I lower my bottle to rest in the crook of my knee, running my tongue over my split lip absently as I study his ghoulish features in the dark. "Why did he call you Knox? I thought your name was Cam?"

"It's my last name," he replies. "All of us mostly go by our last names."

"How militaristic," I mutter.

"That's kinda the point." He frowns as he raises his beer to his lips again, taking a pull.

For a second, I feel a little sad for him. He's clearly going through something, and rather than talking it out with a friend, he's down here with me. Maybe he doesn't have friends here to talk to. But then I remember that he's literally got me behind bars right now, and any feelings of sympathy evaporate.

Stick to the plan, Avery.

"Wanna play a game?" I ask, cocking my head and smiling faintly.

He just stares back at me, deadpan, so I decide to take that as a yes.

"If you rubbed that bottle and a genie popped out to grant you three wishes, what would they be?" I ask, pointing to his beer.

Cam snorts a laugh, shaking his head. "Wishes are for fools."

"Fine, I'll go first," I announce, holding up a hand to tick my wishes off on my fingers as I go. "First, I'd wish my way out of this cell, then I'd wish for all the hunters to be killed," I remark, giving him a pointed look as I lower two of my fingers. "And last…" I chew my lip, glancing up at the ceiling in contemplation. "I'd want an endless supply of brushes and hair ties."

He scrunches up his nose. "Kinda lame for your third one."

"It doesn't bother you that I'd wish for your murder?" I ask sweetly, batting my lashes.

"Nah, my first wish would be eradicating all werewolves," he replies. Lifting his beer, he takes another hefty swig from the bottle.

"And your other two?" I urge, eager for a peek into that pitch-black psyche of his.

His Adam's apple bobs with a harsh swallow before he shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

"You're no fun," I pout.

" Fun is a luxury I can't afford."

"How sad for you."

"And yet you're the one in a cage." He points the tip of his bottle in my direction, arching a brow, and I fight back a cringe at the reminder, suddenly no longer in the mood for games.

Shuffling backwards on the cot to lean against the wall, I heave a sigh, dropping my gaze to my lap and tracking a bead of condensation as it slips down the neck of the beer bottle.

"So why don't you have a mark?" Cam asks gruffly.

I glance back up at him. "Huh?"

"If the Alpha is your mate, why don't you have a mark?" he clarifies, raking his gaze over my form like he's trying to find a mark and spot my lie. "You said werewolves mark their mates."

"Because I'm not mated, moron," I reply with an exaggerated eyeroll. "The Alpha you saw me with? He's my brother ."

Cam's brows shoot up to his hairline. Guess he didn't see that one coming.

"I'm still a valuable hostage, though," I tack on, suddenly nervous that I've revealed too much and not wanting to put anyone else I love in danger of winding up in the neighboring cell. That didn't end so well for Tommy. "He's not mated either," I lie, "and I'm the most important person in his life. So you hit the right mark, but you still fucked yourselves over by taking me. Trust me when I say my brother isn't someone you wanna mess with. You'd better run and hide when he comes to my rescue."

"Hm," Cam muses, a smug smile creasing his lips. "If he was coming for you, wouldn't he be here by now?"

I lift my beer, side-eyeing him as I bring it to my mouth. "He will come for me."

"You seem sure."

"I know my brother."

I drain the rest of my beer, a long silence settling between us as Cam does the same. Then he fishes two more out of the six pack sleeve, twisting the tops off both and offering me another. Must be my lucky day. I amble back over to the bars, trading him my empty bottle for the fresh one before shuffling back over to retake my seat on the cot.

"Doesn't matter, anyways," I say, tossing my long hair over a shoulder as I get comfortable. "I'm gonna get outta here myself. You'll see."

"You shouldn't run," my warden growls, pinning me with his intense dark-eyed stare as he runs his tongue along his upper teeth in a wolfish grin. "I'd have too much fun chasing you."

I'm not sure why a shiver of excitement runs through me at those words.

"Ever the hunter, huh?" I muse.

He shrugs a shoulder. "What can I say? Nothing gets my dick hard like a good hunt."

I quirk a brow. "So you admit I get your dick hard."

"Fuck no," he grumbles, flinching back in horror like he's just realized his mistake.

"Liar," I tease. "I already know you're watching me on that camera." I flick a glance up to said camera mounted in the corner of the cell, then bat my lashes seductively as I return my gaze to his. "Just admit you want this."

His jaw clenches as he shakes his head. "Never."

"Okay, then prove it. Let's see how not hard your dick is right now."

I pointedly look down at his crotch, his grey sweatpants doing nothing to hide the swell of his arousal. Seriously, with the way the shadows are falling across his lap, I can practically see the outline of his cockhead. He definitely wore those on purpose; grey sweatpants are like freaking catnip to women.

"Fuck off," he grumbles.

"C'mon, don't even tell me you can't back up all that big dick energy." I give him a pointed look, but he doesn't take the bait. He just lifts his beer bottle to his lips, taking a long swig while I consider how to push him a little bit more. I swear it's becoming almost too easy for me to get a rise out of him .

"Oh my gosh, you can't, can you?" I cackle, clutching a hand to my chest in laughter. "No wonder you have to overcompensate by locking women in cages. You've probably got a teeny peeny."

"Nope," he replies, popping the P. He's still holding it together, trying to seem unruffled by my relentless teasing, but I know I'm getting to him by the way the vein in his neck is bulging and the way his fist tightens around his beer as he drains the rest of it.

"Prove it, then," I challenge, waggling my brows.

"Are you really so thirsty for dick that you'd get it from me?" he snaps angrily, dropping the now-empty bottle into the sleeve with a clink and fishing out the last full one. He twists off the cap, tossing it down the darkened hallway beyond the cell. "Have you forgotten who put you in that cage in the first place?"

"Well to be fair, I was blacked out when someone dropped me in here, could've been anyone," I comment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

Cam grunts, shifting his weight on his chair as he lifts the beer to his lips and starts chugging. I don't think I've ever seen someone consume so much beer so quickly. Whatever's got him drinking must be weighing heavily on his mind. He finishes the entire bottle in three huge gulps, leaning sideways to slip it into the cardboard sleeve with the other empties as I take a small sip of my own. He straightens as he watches me, reaching down to adjust himself in those damn grey sweatpants.

"I can literally see the outline of your dick through those pants," I deadpan.

He pins me with a furious glare, though there's no mistaking the heat behind it. He likes when I push him like this. It's so painfully obvious that the madder he gets, the more turned on he is, which is definitely something I can work with. Because same .

"Fine, is this what you want?" he snaps, abruptly lifting his hips to reach a hand down the front of his pants and pulling out his very hard cock.

I suck in a gasp, eyes widening. Because it's fucking huge .

"Jesus, what do you feed that thing?" I blurt, a steady throb starting between my legs as I stare at the way he's gripping that weapon of mass destruction. It's so thick that his own fingers barely touch as he gives it a lazy stroke, and all my blood rushes south, my mouth watering.

"Is this what you want, Luna?" he asks, lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk while he watches me watching him.

Yes. No. Fuck, I don't even know.

I can't look away, though, my teeth sinking into the cushion of my lower lip with a bite of pain from the split skin as I watch him run his thumb over the tip, smearing a drop of precum down his veiny shaft.

Jesus fuck, why am I so turned on right now?

I lift my beer bottle to my lips, tipping it up and chugging.

"Dirty little beastie," Cam murmurs, his hand moving faster over his erection.

My throat burns as I swallow down the rest of my beer, wiping my mouth off on a wrist and mentally berating myself to get it the fuck together. I'm supposed to be messing with him right now, not the other way around. I draw a shallow breath, pinching the skin on the side of my thigh as I compose myself.

"Is that what you do when you watch me on the camera?" I ask in a husky voice, my eyes flickering from the movement of his hand to his face.

"Sometimes," he admits.

Fucking knew it.

His eyes stay trained on mine as his breaths shorten, the rhythm of his strokes becoming more erratic.

"You gonna come, Cam?" I purr, toying with the hem of my t-shirt and flashing him some skin. "You gonna show me just how much you don't want this?"

"Take your shirt off," he pants raggedly, jerking his chin in command. "Let me see those tits."

This is the most he's ever lowered his guard around me, and I smirk in satisfaction, lifting the hem of my t-shirt a little more to tease him. "Mmm, I don't know," I hum, the needy pulse between my own legs increasing exponentially as I watch him start to lose it. My nipples harden as I raise my shirt a little more to give him a quick glimpse of them, and I'm rewarded with a throaty groan from Cam as he blows his load all over his hand. He throws his head back, panting as he strokes himself through his climax, and the twisted sense of victory that spears through me is almost enough to drown out my own desire.

His ragged breaths echo in the silence around us as he starts to come back down, tipping his head forward and opening his eyes. They meet mine in an instant, brimming with so much regret that I almost reconsider what I'm about to do next. Almost. This is the furthest I've ever pushed him, and far be it for me to miss the chance to twist the knife.

My lips curve into a cruel smile as Cam quickly strips off his hoodie, scowling and grumbling curses under his breath as he cleans up the mess on his hand and tucks his softening dick back into those sexy ass sweatpants.

"Like I said before, flash a tit and men lose all sense," I quip, chuckling in amusement. "Thanks for proving my point that you really are the weaker sex."

He shoots to his feet, the folding chair tipping backwards and landing on the cement floor with a loud clatter. "The fuck did you just say?" he snarls, twisting the fabric of the hoodie tightly in his grip as he takes a menacing step forward.

"I think you heard me," I reply with a saucy wink.

Dominant energy rolls off him in waves and I swear I hallucinate seeing a flash of gold in his eyes before he whips around, kicking the six pack of empty bottles across the floor. They careen into the opposite wall, glass shattering, and I wince at the sound as he stomps away toward the stairs.

There's a strange stirring sensation in my chest as I watch him disappear from view; one I haven't felt in so long that it takes me a second recognize it for what it is.

My inner wolf yawns, stretching out her paws.

Well hello, old friend.