Phoebe’s POV
My heart lurched when knuckles rapped against the door. The sound nearly tore a scream from my throat, but I clamped down hard, swallowing the panic whole.
"Y-Yes?" My voice betrayed with its tremor. Thank God I’d locked the door—whoever stood outside couldn’t barge in and catch red-handed with the poison.
"Why is this door locked?" Perry’s deep voice cut through the bathroom walls. The doorknob rattled as he tested it. "What the hell are you doing in there?"
He hadn’t ant to interrupt my privacy, but the silence from inside had set him on edge. I’d punched glass and begged for death when he’d tried to touch before. Given my track record, his suspicion made perfect sense.
If I didn’t answer soon, he’d probably tear the door off its hinges.
"Just a minute." I shoved the poison bottle deep into the bottom drawer’s furthest corner, then yanked the door open. His serious expression greeted like a storm cloud.
"What were you doing?" His eyes swept the bathroom, hunting for anything wrong—blood droplets, sharp objects, anything I might use to harm myself.
He probably sounded controlling, like he wanted to micromanage every breath I took. But this woman——had suicidal tendencies. He wouldn’t put it past to try sothing desperate.
"Nothing... nothing at all." I t his gaze and held my breath as his intense stare traveled down my naked body. He noticed the red marks scattered across my skin.
Sothing flickered in Perry’s eyes, and without thinking, he reached out. His thumb traced one crimson mark on my collarbone with surprising gentleness. "Does this hurt?"
I shivered under his touch but shook my head.
"Mmm. Co to bed. I need sleep." He took my hand and guided down onto the mattress, then pulled against him from behind.
His face buried itself in the curve of my neck, and he settled in for sleep. The position felt suffocating—he was too close, his body heat overwhelming mine. I tried to squirm away.
"Don’t move. You’ll get worked up again."
His words froze in place, especially when I felt his hardness pressing against my back. The threat was clear enough.
Exhaustion eventually won out, and I drifted off in his arms.
When I woke, Perry was long gone. His side of the bed felt cold and empty. A food tray sat on the table—Mason’s handiwork, no doubt.
Heat flooded my cheeks. I was still naked. Had Mason seen like this when he brought the food?
I pushed the thought away and cleaned myself up quickly. My clothes waited in the backpack inside the walk-in closet.
This closet alone could house a small family. It dwarfed my old bedroom back in the Obsidian Claw pack.
I ate chanically, then spent the day staring at the television screen. Nothing else to do.
Perry refused to let work—I was his mate now, which apparently ant I was confined to this bedroom with nothing but my own thoughts for company.
Not that I was complaining. This was the freedom I’d dread of. Better this than my old life in the Obsidian Claw pack.
Still, here I sat—trapped in yet another cage.
For once, I couldn’t focus on my usual cartoons. My mind kept drifting to Perry, turning over what I was going to do about him.
"Spacing out again, are we?"
"Ah!" I jumped as soone spoke directly into my ear. When I whipped around, there he was—the royal gamma, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.
"What’s got you so distracted? You’re jumpier than a cat in a thunderstorm." He produced another one of those marshmallow sticks and offered it over. This ti I declined firmly. I wasn’t ending up in the infirmary again.
I’d been here less than six months and had already seen the healer more tis than I cared to count.
"Nothing. Why are you here?" I kept my guard up around him. This gamma was a wild card if I’d ever seen one.
"It’s not spicy this ti. Just regular flavor." He waggled the stick in front of again, but I shook my head.
I’d made myself a promise—no food from him, ever. This man was dangerous, just like the king and his royal beta.
Timothy gave up with a theatrical sigh. "I’m here because I’m bored out of my skull. Figured I’d drop by and see how you’re doing."
I frowned at the flimsy excuse but let it slide. No point in pressing him for details. I turned back to the television, though my thoughts were miles away.
"So, you and Perry patch things up?" Timothy asked, crunching on his stick. "He’s been in a damn good mood today."
I pressed my lips together. No way was I discussing what we’d done last night.
The mory crept back anyway. This ti hadn’t been as revolting as our first encounter. The heat had helped—for the first ti, I’d actually enjoyed the sex, found pleasure and satisfaction in it.
But I sure as hell wasn’t sharing that with the royal gamma.
I stayed silent, drawing my legs up and fixing my eyes on the screen. Timothy wasn’t the type to give up easily, though. He kept trying to draw into conversation.
My responses stayed polite but clipped, until he dropped the small talk and asked sothing that made pay attention.
"Do you know why your stepbrother’s here?" His voice lost its playful edge, the goofiness evaporating. This was business now, demanding my full focus.
"I don’t know." I turned to face him, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. I wanted him gone.
"You don’t know?" His eyebrows shot up like he didn’t believe a word. Honestly, I couldn’t care less whether he bought it or not.
"I don’t know," I repeated. "If you’re so curious, ask him yourself. I’m not close with him."
"Yeah, that’s what I heard too." The scary expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared, his easy-going mask sliding back into place. It was like facing two different people. "What happened to you in the Obsidian Claw pack? I’ve heard rumors, but nothing from you. What’s your truth?"
I hugged my legs tighter against my chest.
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