“Did she do stuff like this?” I muse while my tongue plays across the skin which has been moisturized by something fruity, and her breath hitches.
“She did,” she breathes.
“And this?” I ask while letting my teeth graze over her collarbone.
“Yes,” she exhales through restraint, and her hands rattle the chains as her body squirms beneath me.
“Did she introduce you to the blood running crew?” I sizzle out as I lean back to pull my shirt over my head, and her eyes almost pop out when they fall on my body.
More uncomfortable shifts and labored breaths rattle out from behind the glass as the boys watch the girl-on-girl show.
“She did,” she freely offers.
“Where was that blood from?” I ask while pressing my breasts against her, my lacy bra pressing against the thin material of her shirt, and letting my lips almost touch hers.
“I picked it up at a deserted compound east of the red river. It used to be called Cheyenne,” she says without any knowledge of the meaning of that word.
Her eyes are shut as she basks in my touch, so she doesn’t see me cringe for the tortured dish of memories served in that word. I pull my bra off before tossing it to the ground, and she squirms all the more as I open her shirt to let her feel me - soft skin on soft skin - as my lips almost touch hers once again. My lower lip finally grazes the part between her velvety lips, and she breathes even harder before making the cuffs restraining her rattle louder.
“And who did you see there?” I continue.
“A man. They called him the blood dealer. He was hybrid, strong but ungifted - a non-ager though. They’re meeting at the Callan bar in the western region in three days for another drop,” she releases, and I smile as my hypnotic, spellbinding game comes to an end.
“Thanks,” I chirp while hopping up from her lap and scooping up my clothes.
“Wait. Where are you going?” she prompts with needy demeanor as she jerks forward.
“To strategize. By the way, I’m Araya Crush, lead interrogator for the United.”
Realization comes to her in comical form. She grins and shakes her head while laughing, and I flash her a smile before giving her a wink.
“For the help you provided, they’ll show leniency in your sentencing. I’ll see to it,” I murmur softly, and her she nods with her smile still intact.
“Thank you, Araya Crush. This has been a very… humbling, but an incredibly exciting experience. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever enjoyed being interrogated.”
I slip my shirt back on, and then I nod to her before walking out of one box and into another to join the boys with gaping, dry mouths. I swear there are traces of fog on the glass behind them.
Perverts.
“I’m assuming you got all that?” I ask suspiciously at the boys who seem to be more turned on than tuned in.
“Yeah, Callan bar. I’ll send a team,” Clay strains out, and he walks out of the room a little stiff legged.
“I’ll… go help him,” Hale murmurs as he desperately tries to avoid eye contact with me.
“Me too, and I’ll send some men out to the Cheyenne compound,” Brazen adds.
Men. What babies.
“Good job, Araya,” I scoff to myself as the unappreciative men disappear from the room.
“Yeah,” they all call back in unison, and I just roll my eyes.
There’s nothing left of the Cheyenne compound. I know that for a fact, so they either rebuilt it, or they’re using the underground portions. Either way, it’s someone who knows Cheyenne because those tunnels are elaborate, tricky, and hard to navigate. They would have to be someone who was either an official, or someone tortured the way I was. They would have had to restore power to that hell in order for the heavy doors under the ground to open for them. Who would go to such lengths and choose such a place?
Four days since my big break in the interrogation room, and still no one has even mentioned the plan of action to me. I do all the work, and they take on the easy part without including me just because they’re pissed.
Brazen is standing outside of the lab with Clay, and I walk up close enough to hear the discussion at hand while staying out of sight around the corner.
