Imprisoned Read online

  So why did I put myself on the line to save him? Lathe asked himself. He still had no answer but he knew what he had done was risky. Before he had held a neutral place in the prison—respected and feared for his fangs and his willingness to use them and his status as the prison’s only medical personnel. Now he would have both Tapper and his gang and the Grand Jiho and his Serpents after him. He would have to watch his back—and Ari’s—constantly.

  What had been a difficult life was now going to become almost impossible.

  “Ari, Goddess damn it,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and hearing the rough, sandpapery sound of his whiskers. “How in the Seven Hells did you manage to make so many enemies in such a short amount of time?”

  “I…I d-don’t know.” The answer, accompanied by the chattering of teeth, made Lathe look up and realize that the boy was standing in the corner, still nude and shivering. Strangely, he was covering both his shaft and his chest with his arms, though why he should bother to try and hide his skinny chest, Lathe had no idea. Still, he could see the lad was cold.

  Gods, what’s wrong with you, Lathe? Did you rescue him from Tapper just to let him freeze to death?

  Lathe looked around for the boy’s clothes, then remembered that they’d left Ari’s prison-issued jumpsuit in Tapper’s cell. Well, that was too bad because there was no getting another one tonight—it was too close to lights out to risk going down to the laundry. Being out after the lights went off in BleakHall was as good as suicide.

  Grabbing the blanket from his bunk, Lathe stood up and went to where the boy was standing. He started to drape it around the thin, shivering shoulders but Ari shied away.

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Leave you alone?” Lathe growled, feeling tired and frustrated and irritated all at once. He’d saved the boy’s life—why was he still acting like Lathe was trying to eat him up like a hungry beast?

  “You heard me.” The boy lifted his chin defiantly. “I know why you took me from Tapper—you’re thinking you’ll get me to depend on you so you can stick something besides your finger up my ass next time. Well, it won’t happen!”

  A sharp retort rose to Lathe’s lips…then he saw the fear in those large, dark eyes. A fear so great it was eating the boy up inside. And no wonder he was afraid after what he’d just been through. His lip was split, one side of his face was swollen, and he’d nearly been raped and killed all on his first day at BleakHall. Of course he was afraid.

  Have to see to those injuries tomorrow, he might have a zygomatic fracture, Lathe thought. He could tell by the boy’s eyes he wouldn’t let Lathe anywhere near him tonight.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He dropped the blanket at the boy’s feet and retreated to his bunk. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “I’m not frightened of you,” Ari said at once, but the look in his large, dark eyes spoke differently.

  “No, of course you’re not.” Lathe sighed deeply, suddenly exhausted. He’d just put his life on the line for this new prisoner who wanted nothing to do with him. And he still had no idea why he had done it.

  What a fucking day.

  Leaning down, Ari snatched the blanket and wrapped it around himself, knotting it at the top, under his armpits so that he was covered from chest to shins. Then he looked at Lathe with big, uncertain eyes.

  “Well? What now?” he asked, in a voice that came out sounding more uncertain than defiant.

  “What now, what?” Lathe stretched out on the narrow bunk, feeling the weariness of the day sinking him like a stone in a pond. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

  “What…” Ari cleared his throat. “What are you planning to do with me?”

  Lathe opened one eye and looked at the boy.

  “You mean do I plan to wait until you’re off your guard and come rape you?”

  “I…I…” Ari swallowed convulsively and Lathe realized all over again how frightened the boy was.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to scare you again. For the last time, I’m not going to hurt you. Right now I just want to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “What should I do?” Ari asked. “While you sleep, I mean?”

  “If you’re smart, you’ll sleep too. Long day tomorrow—you’ll be assigned your job.”

  “Job?” The boy spoke like it was a foreign word.

  “Sure. Everybody has to have a job. How else could they keep this place running? I’ll try to keep you with me but I can’t promise I’ll be able to.”

  “What…what if you can’t?” Ari asked in a small voice.

  “Then you’ll have to be on your toes,” Lathe said grimly. “At least I’ll try to keep you out of areas where Tapper and his men are. I’m hopeful the Serpents will forgive their vendetta against you when they’re faced with the threat of not being treated at the infirmary anymore.”

  “Why…” Ari cleared his throat. “Why are you doing this? Protecting me?”

  Lathe was too tired to dissemble. He sighed, feeling like his bones were made of lead. Sleep—he needed sleep.

  “I don’t honestly know,” he growled. “It’s certainly not for the pure fucking pleasure of your company. Now come on—it’s time to get some rest.”

  “Where am I supposed to sleep, though?” Ari asked. “There’s only one bunk.”

  Lathe shrugged tiredly.

  “True—this is supposed to be a single cell. You can share my bunk—not that you will, I can tell by your eyes,” he added, seeing the skeptical look on Ari’s face. “But it gets pretty Goddess damned cold here after lights out—they drop the temperature twenty degrees to keep the lashers happy.”

  “The lashers?” Ari looked puzzled.

  Lathe was too tired to explain.

  “You’ll see. Just be glad the cell door is closed.”

  “Is it locked?” the boy asked, examining the clear plasti-glass door. “I don’t see any locking mechanisms.”

  “Don’t need any locks to keep the prisoners in at night.” Lathe yawned. “Going out is…” He yawned again. “Suicide.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Too bad. I’m too damn tired to explain.”

  He closed his eyes and was about to drift off when Ari spoke again.

  “Can…can I have a drink of water?”

  The boy’s voice was a dry rasp and Lathe remembered he’d thrown up on Tapper when the bastard had shoved his shaft in Ari’s face. Had that been on purpose—the puking? Or was it just because Tapper smelled like a fucking latrine that hadn’t been cleaned in about ten cycles? Lathe’s sensitive Kindred nose had been assaulted by the stench when Tapper opened his jumpsuit too—he didn’t blame the boy for getting sick.

  “In there.” He nodded at the tiny cubical enclosing a toilet and sink in the corner of the cell. Having a private fresher was a luxury accorded only to trustees—much coveted by the regular inmates, who only had a row of public holes to use as toilets in their communal bathing areas.

  He heard the door open but his eyes had already drifted closed before he heard it latch.

  “Just don’t stay in there all night,” he tried to say but he was too damn tired. With a muttered prayer of thanks to the Goddess that he’d been able to save the boy, Lathe drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

  Twelve

  Ari pulled the folding door of the tiny room shut behind her. Even claustrophobia couldn’t stop her from snatching a moment of privacy to pull herself together.

  Looking down, she saw a dull silver toilet and mounted above it, a tiny metal sink. She looked at herself in the flat, scratched square of silver that served for a mirror. Her face was a mess—the left side of it, where Tapper had punched her—was bloody and swollen and it looked like she had the beginnings of a pretty good black eye.

  Not such a pretty boy now, are you? she thought and had to look away as tears welled up in her eyes. Why, oh why hadn’t she listened to Hanna and stayed the hell away from this awful place?