Page 9 of Bound By Thorns
I ran back to the guard I saw while entering. Panting, I asked, “Where’s Ingrid?”
He grimaced in disgust, “Who?”
“241!” I shouted, “Where is she?”
He lazily checked his sheet of morning attendance and rolled his eyes.
“She is dead,” he said dryly. When my face twisted in horror and pain, he laughed. He fucking laughed in my face.
“Relax, whore. She’s been moved to cell number forty-six. Her cell is being prepped for someone else.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. To reach cell number forty-six I would have to walk through cell number twenty-nine, where 424 resided, aka Logan.
Fuck me.
I started my journey to Ingrid’s cell with a shudder. Walking through the narrow aisle, I crossed many residents. Yes, that’s what they were called.Residents.
Not prisoners, not inmates, not people. Residents. How respectful. The faint clinking of metal plates and incoherent murmurs, and random screams of the residents filled my ears. It was always damp in here, and the lingering smell of sweat and blood was a constant shock to my nostrils.
Twenty-one.
Twenty-three.
Twenty-five.
Twenty-seven.
There it was, twenty-nine. I could see the cell’s space was barely utilized. But surely enough, I would see him. Either sleeping, or doing something. I didn’t know what he did during this hour. I had never encountered him during this time. God, I hoped he was sleeping.
I didn’t expect to see him today, so I was severely unprepared. My mask had slipped. I was here for a chat with someone I considered a friend. Now, I was going to face someone who considered me their enemy.
As I slowly trudged by, I saw him face down, doing pushups. His back looked better than last night. He hadn’t still removed the bandages I put there. I could see his masterful shoulder blades moving with each pushup.
God, this man was beautifully sculpted.
Why couldn’t I separate this man from the Logan I saw seven years ago? He definitely could.
When he saw my cushiony slippers, his gaze began to climb up. My breathing became erratic and I was sure I was trembling. I paused and couldn’t move past his cell.
He was now looking up at me. Without hesitation, he settled his knees down and sat up to get a good look. His face was blank,but I could see fury raging in his eyes. Those piercing blue icy eyes.
I forced my face to relax and not show the emotions I was feeling. Dread, regret, longing.
But when my gaze dropped to his chest, half of which was covered in burn scars, I gasped. I drank him in. His chest now had a tiny bit of hair growing on it, and his sweat was beading down from his neck to his torso. I kept wondering how he still looked incredibly rugged while being tortured for half a day.
The bead of sweat traveled enticingly low and reached his abs. Those beautifully crafted ridges, that a woman could taste and feel content after. Then the bead disappeared at the band of his white boxers. Before my eyes dropped further, I forced myself to look back up, only to find a faint smirk painting his face.
It wasn’t a walk. It wasn’t a lazy stride. I nearly sprinted out of there. I ran back upstairs abandoning my plans to meet Ingrid, until I was back in my bed, with my panties damp.
THREE
Logan
It seemed like Garret wasn’t keeping his whore sated enough. The way Kaylan looked at me, the hunger in her eyes belied what I reluctantly thought was vulnerability. It had me feeling something…odd.
Her incredibly tiny gray shorts left her legs all bare for me to see. The creamy texture of her long muscular legs, had me almost extending my hands to touch her.
Fuck.
