Page 70 of Thirst
Wishing I had a paintbrush.
And some paint.
And a canvas.
My fingers kept flexing like they were trying to sketch the air.
The door swung open and I scrambled to my feet. A tall, broad-shouldered woman in a Maritime Syndicate uniform, black hair scraped into a ponytail, poked her head through the door and scanned the cell like I might have a small army crouched beside the cot.
“Breakfast,” she told me and jerked her chin at someone in the hall.
A scrawny teenager with a shock of pink, blue and purple hair sauntered into the cell. Human. Despite the cocky grin he threw me, underneath he was wary… watchful.
“Morning.” He indicated the covered basket in his hands. “I brought food.”
The guard remained in the doorway, arms folded beneath her breasts. When I glanced at her, she moved a hand, making sure I saw the switchblade concealed in it. Don’t try anything funny.
I dipped my head. Message received.
She didn’t have to threaten me. I already knew I wasn’t leaving. I was in a dungeon, buried in a castle, marooned on an island owned by the Maritime Syndicate. Even if I escaped the cell, what then? They’d haul me back before I reached the castle gates.
This was their fortress—guards prowling, cameras watching, and doors bound in silver. I couldn’t fight my way out. I was a dhampir, not Wonder Woman.
No sense battering myself against a wall. The only thing I’d bruise was me.
But it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend or two.
I smiled back at the teenager, trying to project harmlessness. “Thank you.”
“I’m Rio,” he said. “And you’re Mademoiselle Nazaire.” He hit every syllable like an American and mangling half the vowels in the process.
“Please, call me Nyx.”
“Neex,” he echoed. “Dope name.”
That tugged a smile from me. A real one. “Thanks. It means night. In Greece, Nyx is a goddess—kind of an elemental force.”
“Very dope.” He set the basket beside the cot and flipped the lid open with a little flourish. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Inside waited a full-on feast—crisp bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, a croissant shining with butter, and a muffin studded with blueberries the size of marbles.
My stomach rumbled. “Starving,” I admitted with a rueful grin.
“Yeah? Well, enjoy.” He turned to go.
“Wait—stay. I’d like some company…if that’s allowed?”
I shot the guard a pleading smile.
Her expression didn’t so much twitch.
“It’s okay by me,” Rio told her. “The lieutenant wants her to have anything within reason.”
He did?
The guard grunted and pulled out her phone. A few seconds later, she looked up. “He can stay. Fifteen minutes,” she added, all steel.
“Understood,” said Rio. He waited until she’d stepped out of the cell, then settled onto the floor next to the cot. “Eat.” He handed me the plate. “It’s gonna get cold.”
