I shrugged, hoping it would wipe the satisfaction from her smile. It didn't. Instead she inched forward in her chair. Her eyes burned with the same intensity I'd seen yesterday when she'd asked me about my life.
"You enjoy special status, don't you? The only female."
"I wouldn't say that."
She laughed. Triumph. "I've talked to that other werewolf, Elena. Patrick Lake. He knew every thing about you. You speak for the Pack leader. You intercede with outside werewolves on his behalf. You can even make decisions in his stead."
"I'm just a glorified mediator," I said. "When it comes to mutts, I do more housecleaning than policy-making."
"But you are entrusted with the power to speak for the Alpha. Immense power in your world. The trusted aide of the most important werewolf and the lover of the second most important. All because you're the only female."
She smiled as if unaware she'd just insulted me. I wanted to tell her that Clay and I fell in love before I became "the only female werewolf" and that I'd earned any status I had with the Pack. But I wouldn't rise to the bait. I didn't need to. She only paused for breath before continuing.
"Do you know what's the worst thing about my life, Elena?"
I thought of rhyming off a list, but doubted she'd appreciate the effort.
"Boredom," she said. "I'm tied to a job no one will let me do, stuck in a life no one will let me lead. I've tried to take advantage of it, the spare time, the money. Mountain-climbing, alpine skiing, deep-sea diving. You name it. I've done it. The riskier and more expensive, the better. But do you know what? I'm not happy. I'm not fulfilled."
"Huh." A head ache knotted behind my eyes.
Bauer leaned forward. "I want more."
"It must be difficult--"
"I deserve more," she said.
Before I could try another response, she stood and sailed from the cell like a prima donna after her greatest performance.
"What the hell was that about?" I muttered after she'd left.
The head ache tightened. Damn it, I was a mess. Trampled spine, punctured stomach, and now a head ache. I thought about Bauer. Enough of your problems, lady, let's talk about mine. I chuckled to myself, then gasped as the laugh sent splinters of pain coursing through my skull. I rubbed the back of my neck. The pain only worsened. When I lay on the bed, the light overhead scorched my eyes. Damn it. I didn't have time for a head ache. I had so much to do. Finish breakfast, shower, scrub the bloodstains off my shirt, plot how to escape this hellhole, and foil the villians' evil plans. A very busy timetable for someone confined to an underground cage.
I forced myself up from bed. The sudden movement felt like needles stabbing through my eyes. Tension head ache? All things considered, I was entitled to one. Rubbing the back of my neck again, I headed for the shower.
"Elena?"
I turned and looked around. No one was there.
"Ruth?" I said, though the voice didn't sound like hers. It wasn't the way Ruth had communicated with me either. Ruth's voice had been audible. This one was more something I sensed or felt rather than heard.
"Elena? Come on!"
This time, I smiled. Though the voice was still a whisper, too faint to recognize, the exasperation was remarkably identifiable. Paige.
I closed my eyes, prepared to reply, and realized I had no idea what I was doing. It wasn't like talking to Jeremy. With Jeremy, communication took place in a dream state, where I imagined I could both see and hear him. It sounded and felt like natural conversation. This didn't. Paige's summons was the proverbial "hearing voices in your head," and auditory delusions weren't part of my normal psychopathology. How did I answer back? I tried mentally forming a response and waited.
"Come ... ena. Answer ... !"
Okay, she couldn't hear me and I was losing her. I concentrated harder, picturing myself saying the words. Silence returned.
"Paige?" I said, testing the words aloud. "Are you there?"
No response. I called her again, mentally this time. Still nothing. The knot in my head loosened and I began to panic. Had I lost her? What if I couldn't do this? Damn it, concentrate. What had Ruth told me? Relax. Clear your head. My head was clear ... well, excepting the frustration zipping through my brain. Concentrate, concentrate. No good. The harder I tried, the more I feared I couldn't do it. Now I was stressed. And Paige was gone. I took a deep breath. Forget this. Go have a shower. Dress. Relax. She'd try again ... I hoped.
Paige's second attempt came about two hours later. This time I was lying in bed, reading a boring magazine article and half asleep. It must have been the perfect telepathy environment. When I heard her call, I responded without thinking, answering in my head.
"Good," she said. "... there."