Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

I’m staring again. I know I am, and yet, I just can’t stop, because there’s this energy rippling from him that’s filled with lust and affection, and I wouldn’t be able to break away from it even if I wanted to.

He was in his kingly form last night...but what would it be like to be with him while he’s in this Rip form? What would it be like to feel the tips of his spikes above his brow, or press my lips to the murky streak of gray scales along the tops of hi

s cheeks? Would he tease me with that hint of fang by dragging it along my—

“Leg or breast?”

My head snaps in the direction of Osrik’s voice, and my cheeks flame. “What?”

His brown eyes blink impatiently beneath bushy brows. “Leg or breast?” he grunts, pointing to the meat he’s tearing apart.

“Oh. Uh...leg?”

He nods before ripping off the biggest damn leg from some poor animal he probably hunted down himself with his bare hands.

I stuff my gloves in my pocket and then grab the hunk he passes over. I have to grip the end of the leg bone in both hands just to hold it up. I’m no food snob, but this is a little ridiculous.

Taking pity on me, Slade relieves me of the giant leg and tears a strip of meat off, before he hands over the much more manageable slice. “Thanks.” I sit down on the empty stump of wood just beside him and then bite into the meat, which practically melts in my mouth.

“Os, stop tearing into it like that. You’re massacring it,” Lu gripes. The three of them sit a few feet away from us, the firelight making their uniforms brighten.

He glowers. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Looks a bit like something a pack of rabid wolves have been at,” Judd says helpfully. Before Osrik can so much as shoot a glare his way, the mustard-haired Wrath smoothly shoves a cup of wine in his direction.

Osrik swipes up the cup before shoving a hunk of meat in Judd’s direction in return, making fat go dripping all over the ground. “You’re lucky I’m thirsty.”

Judd grins and sits next to Lu, making her shove over on her stump. “Did I say you could sit here?” she asks with an arched brow.

“Well, if I try to share a stump with Os, he’ll probably tear my legs off and roast them over the spit.”

Lu tilts her head contemplatively. “True.”

Osrik grunts, teeth gnashing onto a bite of smoked skin that crackles as he chews. But he doesn’t disagree.

I watch in amusement as I finish my food and drink my fill, all while relishing their easy interactions. It makes me relax bit by bit until I find that I’m just...enjoying myself. I’m not on edge. Not having to watch what I do or say. I don’t have to play a part. I can simply be myself and not look over my shoulder. We might be on Ranhold’s front doorstep, but in this moment, I feel an ocean away.

“I take it you and Lu had no trouble coming out here?” Slade asks me.

Using the snow at my feet, I wipe my hands the best I can before I hold them up to the fire to thaw them out. “No. Nice trick she has, by the way.”

“It is,” he replies simply before taking a drink from his cup and stretching out his legs in front of him.

“Do all of your Wrath have tricks?”

He gives me a mischievous look. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

One glance at Osrik still mauling his food and I’m not sure I want to know.

Lowering my voice, I ask, “Do they...know?”

Amusement dances in his eyes. “Do they know what exactly? That we...”

“No,” I hiss, darting a look at the others. Luckily, they’re occupied with making fun of Judd about something.

Slade grins, and I know the ass did it on purpose. The fact that Fake Rip might or might not have heard some things is embarrassing enough as it is. “Not that. Do they know that you change coats?” I ask pointedly.

He snorts. “Yes, they know I change forms. They’re the only ones, apart from you.”