Slip of Fate (Werelock Evolution Book 1) (14 page)

I didn’t see Alex again, either awake or in my dreams, but a few times I awakened swearing that I’d smelled him, and I was surprised, albeit relieved, to note his absence. I prayed he and his “wolf” might forget about me altogether for a while. Gradually, I became more lucid during my brief periods of wakefulness, though again, it seemed to take several days.

I suffered a few disturbing, fretful nightmares about Raul being locked in a cell somewhere, and also an upsetting dream about my mother. I startled myself awake with my crying on those occasions. And each time Kai was there to provide detached comfort via a pat on the hand or emotionless words of reassurance along with some fresh sedatives in my IV.

I wished Alessandra would visit me. Or Remy or Alcaeus. I could feel myself becoming increasingly despondent the more hopeless my situation appeared.

Kai seemed quite the impenetrable stoic. He was pleasant enough, but I quickly realized I wasn’t going to be able to sway his compassion or extract any information out of him. He hardly spoke to me unless absolutely necessary. He simply took my vitals, drew blood, fussed with my IV bag, and asked me how I was feeling and whether there was anything I needed.

I didn’t bother telling him I was feeling miserable and borderline suicidal, as it would’ve only induced more drugging. But by the tenth time he’d asked me if there was anything I needed, I sassed back that I needed my brother and my freedom.

He stiffly informed me he wasn’t at liberty to provide either of those things, but that he’d pass along my request to the Alpha. I told him I’d settle for a shower, a change of clothes, and Internet access. He agreed to unhook my IV and procure someone to assist me with a shower and clothes, but informed me he’d have to pass along my Internet request to the Alpha.

As luck would have it, a beauty queen clad in a skimpy string bikini and a see-through coverall, who introduced herself as Jacinda, arrived a short while later announcing she’d come to bathe me. By someone to “assist me,” I’d foolishly assumed Kai meant someone bearing towels and a change of clothing—perhaps a choice of shampoo and body wash, not someone to literally bathe me!

When I politely clarified to her that I only needed a change of clothing and maybe some help locating the towels, not her assistance in the shower, she didn’t hesitate to reveal her annoyance.

“Listen, kid, I’m just following orders. You wanted a bath, and I was instructed to give you one. Rest assured, I consider this task to be well beneath my rank.” The smile she cast my way could only be described as mean. “I was specifically told to assist you, since apparently you’re too weak to stand on your own in a shower.”

She crossed her sinewy arms under her pert breasts, her green eyes daring me to challenge her. My mouth fell open.

Her lip curled in distaste. “That’s really not an attractive face, you know. You look like a guppy.”

I flushed bright red as I recalled Alex’s harsh words to me in my dream. She’d hit a nerve with that insult, and my tongue itched to lash right back at her. But the fact that I was still weak, combined with the knowledge that she most likely transformed into an enormous dog, prompted me to swallow my pride.

She smirked knowingly as she watched me bite my tongue and purse my lips.

I assessed my options. I’d been on the swim team throughout high school, so it wasn’t as if I’d never showered with another girl before. But this was no girl; this was a woman! I liked to think I wasn’t vain or superficial, and that I didn’t obsessively compare myself to other girls the way some of my friends did, but I wasn’t exactly feeling my most secure since being taken hostage by a mind-raping werewolf psychopath and his houseful of beautiful people minions.

Of course he’d send some bitch who looked like a
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit model to stare me and all my twelve-year-old curves down in the shower!

And it might’ve been childish and petty of me, but I just didn’t want to shower naked in front of such a nasty, judgmental, perfectly gorgeous woman in my present state of mind.

It was likely at least in part a symptom of sedative withdrawal, but I was definitely suffering a bit of depression. I was starting to lose faith that Raul was even alive.

I didn’t trust Alex for taffy. And if Raul was still alive, I suspected that as soon as Alex figured out how to sever his wolf’s connection to me, he would kill both my brother and me. Conversely, if he didn’t find a way to sever our connection, an even grimmer future might lay ahead. I was essentially trapped in a
Choose Your Own Adventure
story where every alternate ending was either death or fate worse than death.

I just wanted my mom. I missed her. And I needed her so much now.

Using all the strength I possessed, I scooted to the edge of the bed, threw my legs over the side, and ascended somewhat gracefully to my feet in my best display of how
not
weak and fragile I was. Then I took a deep breath and channeled my innermost Emily Post.

“I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” I paused to check the sarcastic tone that had begun to bleed through. “But actually, I don’t … I don’t think I want … err … require a shower anymore,” I finished with a sigh of relief. “But thanks, thanks anyway,” I appended, feeling rather proud of myself for venturing the high road.

My high road attempt earned me a “palm up in my face” gesture from Jacinda.

“Oh, no.
Uh-uh
. I never fail in any assignment for my Alpha—no matter how trivial or stupid I may think it is. Besides, I’ve never seen the inside of Alex’s shower before, and I am
not
missing it.” She said it as if his shower housed priceless works of art she’d longed her whole life to lay eyes upon.

I tried to remember if there’d been a Picasso hanging over the toilet during my drunken, assisted trips to relieve my bladder.
Because who got excited over seeing the inside of a damn shower?

I’d steadfastly strived to ignore the gross opulence of the enormous bedroom in which I was being held prisoner. I understood from Kai that it was an adjoining bedroom to Alex’s within his private quarters. That fact alone was enough to make me retch.

“Well, please, help yourself,” I offered with an exaggerated, flowing arm gesture in the direction of the loo. If I hadn’t been so physically exhausted, I would’ve thrown in a dramatic arabesque for good measure just to make my childhood ballet teacher proud.

I knew I was asking for it, but I’d reached my limit and couldn’t resist antagonizing her.
Fuck it
. If all my alternate endings sucked, I could at least aim for the quickest route to death available.

“You’re more than welcome to use it.” I gave her a saccharine smile and sat back down onto the edge of the bed. “I’ve already seen the toilet bowl, and it’s exquisite.” I inclined my head in the direction of the bathroom and chirped merrily, “Enjoy!”

“Are you for fucking real, kid?” Jacinda’s eyes darted about the room, as if pondering whether she might be getting
punk’d
by a hidden camera crew. “You do realize I can kill you in the blink of an eye—”

I interrupted her threat by throwing her “the palm.”

“Please do,” I invited. “But let’s get one thing straight first. Just because I’m not five hundred years old like you, doesn’t mean I’m a fucking
kid.”

I never saw her move, but her palm connected with my cheek as if she’d wielded a baseball bat, knocking me clear off the bed and bringing instant tears of pain to my eyes.

Jacinda gasped in horror. “Oh, shit!
Oh, fuck!
Damnit, look what you made me do!”

I was quite certain my cheekbone had shattered.

“Fuck, fuck,” she continued to fret as I tried to sit up and recover my equilibrium. “Kai’s gonna kill me. I’ll have to heal you in the shower.”

I sat up in time to see her darting about the room, closing and bolting each of the entrances to the bedroom.
Good!
It would afford me more time if they had to break the doors down to get to me with that magic healing potion injection.

The side of my face was on fire. It was one of the worst pains I’d ever experienced. And I was happier and feeling more invigorated than I had felt in days for it. Even if it had only felt like a bug bite to Alex on his cheekbone, I knew somehow wherever he was he had felt it, too.

I hadn’t a shot at winning a physical fight against any of these freaks, but I was determined to land a blow against Alex any way I could, even if that meant provoking this bitch Jacinda until she killed me, either intentionally or by accident.
I was going to write my own alternate ending
.

I’d already pulled myself halfway to my feet using the nightstand as leverage and was ready for her when Jacinda came back around for me, harping on about how we needed to hurry, complaining that she was going to have to lick my cheekbone thoroughly in the shower in order to heal it and warning that she didn’t want any more trouble out of me.

Oh, like hell was I was gonna let her lick my face like Remy had done.

I’d wrapped my fingers as inconspicuously as possible around the iron stem of the nightstand table lamp, and as she approached I swung it at her with all my might, yanking the cord clear out of the wall and sending the intricate glass lampshade flying.

I was quite astounded and pleased by my own timing and feat of strength when the fat iron base successfully impacted with Jacinda’s unsuspecting face. Somehow I’d anticipated she’d display far better reflexes than that.

“
Fuck!
”
she screamed in shocked indignation.

Although she seemed undamaged, her mouth hung open and she sized me up and down once again as if she thought I might be mental or pulling her leg.

Round two, Milena
.

My internal victory dance was swiftly curtailed, though, when without warning she yanked the lamp stem out of my unprepared right hand so forcefully that my wrist snapped. I screamed in agony before I could think better of it.
Holy crap, that fucking hurt!

I cradled my injured wrist to my stomach, doubling over in pain and then dancing from foot to foot, as if somehow that might distract me from the torture now shooting throughout every nerve ending in my hand and arm.

“Que diabo! Are you kidding me? It’s like you’re made out of damn glass!”

Oh, this was no motherfucking joke, sister!
I couldn’t for the life of me fathom how a wrist fracture managed to hurt so much worse than a shattered cheekbone, but I prayed to God that Alex was feeling at least some small measure of the pain I was enduring now.

With a resounding thud, Jacinda tossed the lamp aside. “This is
soo
unfair that I can’t kill you for being a pain in the ass,” she said, moving in and grabbing me about the waist from the side with one arm.

I pulled the classic toddler tantrum trick and let my body go limp in her grasp, making it as difficult as possible for her to pick me up.

She growled. “Fucking quit it, you little bitch!”

I spastically flailed my good arm and kicked my legs, landing a few random hits that hurt me more than they did her. But despite my best antics, she easily managed to contain me and haul me into the bathroom and then through a second door within the bathroom, past a rectangular Jacuzzi tub that could’ve doubled as a lap pool, and through a set of glass double doors that was the entrance to the mother of all showers … if you could even classify it a “shower.”

It had to be at least 20 by 20 square feet, equipped with all manner of showerheads attached to a maze of piping at multiple heights and angles covering the walls and ceilings and aimed in every possible direction that anyone might ever want to be hit by shower spray. Upon our entrance, the shower room began to fill up with steam.

Raul had once told me Brazilians were obsessed with bathing and personal hygiene, but this was off the charts!

There were a number of tables and benches set up, as well as shelves lined with body brushes, loofahs, and various jars of body scrub, oils, shampoos, and cleansing gels. Apparently Alex was a major prima donna who busied himself having spa days when he wasn’t otherwise preoccupied killing the innocent family members of people who’d fallen from his favor.

Entitled ass!
It renewed my desire to hurt myself in order to hurt him as I remembered all the times I’d taken hurried, freezing cold showers in the morning when our perpetually unreliable hot water heater had broken down.

“Don’t you dare fucking move,” Jacinda warned as she set me down atop what looked like a waterproof massage table and began fiddling with some touch-screen piece of equipment behind a panel inside of the wall about four feet away.

I bided my time, my eyes searching frantically, albeit covertly, around the room for the right opportunity as she pressed different buttons on the control pad, causing various shower heads to turn on and off again as she tried to figure out the ones she wanted. She was soon swearing, clearly unfamiliar with how the system worked, and I remembered that this was her first time inside Alex’s holy grail of showers.

I sighed melodramatically in mock defeat moments after eyeing the high shelf affixed to the wall just above us. It was lined with a plethora of large, solid glass toiletry jars.
Jackpot
.

“Uh … do you want some help with that?” I offered in my best attempt to sound meek and subdued, wincing and clutching my wrist to my chest in a show of great anguish.
The anguish part came easily.

“What?” she snapped.
“
No! I got it.” She was only half paying attention to me now that the high-tech shower controls had become her new nemesis. No matter what code she punched, only the shower jets on the floor and lower wall seemed willing to cooperate and turn on.

“I should tell you, I’m terribly allergic to most natural fragrances and essential oils.”

She rolled her eyes, not bothering to look away from the touch screen as she mumbled, “’Course you are.”