Don't Feed Me, I Will Come Back

three

'I am no good nor evil; I simply am.'

☾

  "Presents dropped off at my door, and it's not even my birthday?" That husky voice called out, smoothly echoing around the bare concrete walls. Zeppelin thrashed against the heavy boot pressing into her spine to no avail. All she could see were legs. "Damn, I love being me!"

  The voices above her chuckled harmoniously, and the sound reminded her of a pack of starving hyenas. Strangely, she couldn't discern any noise coming from Jace's direction, her focus fighting tooth and nail to shift between the hooded figure to her left and the faceless one to her right.

  "Well?" The voice paused as a hushed silence fell over the men. "What are you waiting for? Get her off the ground, she's not a damn prisoner of war."

  Warm, heavy hands wrapped around her arms just above her elbows, pulling her up until she was lifted from the floor, sweaty and bristling and downright pissed off. Her warden had her facing the wall, where the only sight available to her was of Jace smirking at her like a cat watching its dinner. She resisted the sudden urge to sneer at him and cranked her neck, searching for an angle to match a face to the voice.

  "Aren't I, though?" Zepp hurled the retort moments before her gaze hit its mark.

  The man was tall, intimidatingly so, though he was a few inches shorter than Jace, the Freak of Nature behind her. Hazel eyes framed by thick, dark lashes pinned her to the spot as they dragged up and down the length of her body. A hint of something near ravenousness appeared in that inspection of her, disappearing as suddenly as it had emerged. His face was disarmingly attractive, and he radiated the kind of confidence that said he'd stand out in a crowd even before said crowd was assembled of dead people. He flashed her a wide, arrogant smile, revealing a line of perfectly straight and blinding white teeth.

  "Well, I can pull out the handcuffs and chains, sweetheart, but you look like the kinda gal who needs to get to know a man first," he said.

  The men gathered on the leather couches behind her snickered and jeered in unison again, and Zeppelin's skin pricked in response. The one holding her arms behind her back gave her a little shove forward, and it took more self-control than she realized she had to not launch herself on him and rip his eyeballs from their sockets with her bare hands. Self-control and the fact that her wrists were still bound together in the expert knot Jace tied.

  Instead, she laced her fingers together, steeled her spine, and stared down the snake in her path.

  "What's your name, darling?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, the slick leather of his jacket pulling on sharp, broad shoulders as he casually leaned against the door frame.

  "It's not sweetheart or darling," Zeppelin bit back. She shifted on her feet, gauging his reaction to the hatred spitting from her lips. She was nervous and uncomfortable, and giving in to her anger was the only thing keeping her from toppling over.

  "Hmm." The sound rumbling in the back of his throat was nearly feline. "Well, until you give me a name, I think I'll have to call you whatever the fuck I like, doll."

  She dug her nails into her palms, the jagged edges carving half-moons into her palms. From her point of view, she's left with two options. Lie, let them take her captive, then slit the closest throat and bolt when she found her opportunity. Or, do the one thing she hated more than the idea of fighting her way back to her brother.