Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 44
Glancing up at the camera on the ceiling, I wonder who’s on the other side. Which of The Ivory’s men are following my every move… What they must think. What he’s told them…
Stopping at the sound of yelling, I peer around a corner. There’s a man in a white lab coat—I’d assume he’s a doctor, but then who would know—exiting one of the exam rooms, rather quickly. Fleeing from the aggrieved bellows of whoever is in there.
When I’m sure the coast is clear, I slink over to peer inside the room. There’s a form slumped over in an exam chair, looking exhausted and utterly tormented—burn marks all over his exposed skin, dark hair hanging in his face. His head slants, and I gulp.
It’s Ren.
Not only are they holding him down here… They’re experimenting on him.
I’m not surprised, but still. Seeing the state he’s in gives me a strange pang in the gut. I’m familiar with such agony.
My mind flashes back to that day in the rec room…
“Don’t try to pretend you care about anyone else…” Byron seethed at Luthor and Ren, his resentment masking obvious pain. “Especially not me. Because we all know it’s a fucking lie.”
The Ivory made it sound like the things that happen within these walls are all very intentional, and I’m not surprised by that either. We’re all pawns in his game, from his spy, all the way down to the lying arsonist, who is apparently enough of a threat that he needs to be strapped to a chair and tortured.
Byron deserves to know about all of this. I should tell him the things I’ve heard, what I’ve witnessed…
But The Ivory was right. We’re all one another has left. If I were to tell him, then it goes back to being all about them. But what about me?
I know Byron doesn’t really need me… But I need him.
As long as we have each other, we don’t need anyone else.
“Keep your secrets, Trevel… Don’t rely on anyone to fix you…”
Ren lifts his face, but I’m gone before he can see me.
I’m rushing down a different corridor when I’m stopped by a voice.
“Is he okay?”
I peer around, because I can’t tell where it’s coming from. It’s muffled, as if someone is speaking to me from inside one of the cells, but I don’t know which one.
“Does it matter?” I respond, checking each window. “No one is okay in here…”
“Fair point,” the voice croaks.
It sounds male, raspy yet smooth. Tired, though that’s to be expected.
Who is that? It doesn’t sound exactly like him, but…
“Leo…?” I murmur, stopping at a door that has no window, around a corner and set apart from the other cells.
“Sorry, no,” he responds.
He’s definitely inside this room, and now that I’m a bit closer, I can tell it’s not Leo. This is a real person, a young man.
“Are you… a friend of The Ivory?” he asks me.
I’m taken aback by the question at first, though I don’t know why. I suppose that’s exactly what I am; a part of his team. On his side.
Beholden to the devil.
“It would appear so, wouldn’t it?” I lean against the door, my mind swimming.
“You’ve put your trust in him?”
I purse my lips. “I wouldn’t go that far…”
“So you get it, then,” he goes on. “That in order to be on his side, you have to accept that you’ll never come first. Your wants, needs… They’ll all take a backseat to his. Because he is all of it.”
I swallow hard, reeling from his words. “You sound like you know this from personal experience…”
“In a way.”
Turning to face the door, I tap my knuckles on it gently. “Why are you in there?”
He’s quiet for a moment before he sighs, “Revenge.”
That one word… It sets my teeth on edge. Thumps my pulse in my neck.
“It’s… important,” I tell him, though my voice trails and I add, “Right?”
“Yes,” he answers with certainty. “It is.”
I breathe out of relief. But then he says, “I heard once that the best revenge is living a healthy, happy life.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He chuckles. It’s a nice sound; melodious and pure. Who is this mystery person? “I guess it’s like rising above or something. The best revenge is not needing it, you know?”
I frown, picking at some chipped paint on the door. “I suppose… But getting it just feels so bloody good.”
The lad laughs again. “You’re funny, bad guy. I hope you get your revenge.”
For the sod of it, I try the handle on the door. It doesn’t open.
But it doesn’t matter, because voices up the hall alert me that it’s time to go.
“You too, stranger,” I whisper, my chest aching with a memory. Of Alice. “Stay safe.”
I think he’s mumbling something in Spanish, but I can’t hear it, nor can I stick around.
Darting away, I rush back toward general population, all the while plagued by that voice, and those words. Everything that’s happened today, and yesterday, since my arrival at Alabaster Pen, and even before.
Revenge has led me to a lot of places, some good, some not. But I can’t deny that if it weren’t for the terrible things I’ve experienced, I wouldn’t be here right now…
In this dingy, awful prison. With the most intoxicating person I’ve ever met.
The lights are already out in the row as I’m entering our cell, slipping inside quietly. Despite the darkness, I can see the lump that is Byron Kang, who’s curled up in his bed.
My exquisitely damaged shadowman.
Stepping over to the bunk bed, I pause with my hands on the ladder. But it takes only a moment to decide, and then I’m crawling into his bed.
The flimsy mattress dips at my weight, and Byron shifts, his eyes gleaming up at me. “You’re back…”
I don’t respond, simply nestle up beside him. And to my surprise, and delight, he doesn’t ask why I’m in his bed, nor does he gripe at me to leave. He spins to face me.
Letting out a soft breath, I stare, riveted, losing myself in the depths of his gaze. There are so many things I want to say to him, so much I’d love for him to understand.
He deserves to know who I am… How I feel about him.
But I’m… so very afraid.
Grazing my thumb over his full bottom lip, I whisper, “Don’t stop me.”
And he doesn’t.
My mouth covers his, and I kiss him, softly but insistently enough that he releases a small whine. It sets me ablaze, the darkness melting away.
I can’t even fathom it, but there are torrents of light behind my eyes as I fall to pieces with his lips on mine.
Nothing has ever felt as good as finally kissing him.
“Oh, Byron,” I purr, sucking on his perfect mouth like candy. “My taste of decadent fury…”
He opens for me, giving me his tongue. I give mine back, and they stroke while our lips brush, suck and bruise.
“Trevel, baby,” he whimpers, sliding a possessive hand up my chest, then my neck, into my hair.
This is unlike anything else, somehow hotter than our hottest sex. All the deliciously dirty things we’ve done together were just that—carnality, above all else.
But this is passion. A fervent yearning for something deeper than just our bodies craving pleasure. God help us… But this is far from casual.
Dooming our fate or not, Byron and I are kissing.
We do it for so long, our mouths go numb.
A storm is coming.
We’ve been hearing about it, bits and pieces of conversation from the guards. It reminds me of the last big storm we had here… The night the power went out.
To think that used to be a secret… Something that existed only inside my brain and my journal.
Not anymore. Now all of my wild experiences, my truths, are also floating around inside the pretty head resting on my chest.
My fingers absentmindedly sift through Trevel’s dark, messy hair. It’s tickling my skin, but I like it. I like how quiet he is right now, half-conscious and unburdened by whatever it is that gives him those awful night terrors.
I think it’s clear that he’s been through some shit, the extent of which has marred his otherwise brilliant mind. The dude is seriously smart as hell. I’m sort of amazed by him in a lot of ways… I just wish I understood it more.
I wish I knew him more.
He knows so much about me, and yet I don’t know dick about him. Aside from his dick, that is. I know that thing pretty damn well at this point.
I’ve been holding back from asking Trevel about himself and his past. Trying to keep my distance, because I felt like it would preserve the mystery, and keep this thing casual.
The less I know about him, the more I can keep telling myself it’s just about the sex.
But lately, it’s been shifting. The sex has been coming to life; growing a heartbeat. It’s real now, a living, breathing organism bred between us. I don’t know what that means, but I can’t help feeling the tiniest twinge of excitement amidst the fear.
Last night, we kissed. And I mean, kissed. A lot. Deep and hot and… God, so good. A makeout session that led not to sex, but to us falling asleep tangled in one another. And it’s freaking me out, because if the physical stuff is changing… what does that mean for the rest of it?
What are we doing? Are we really just cellmates in prison who fuck and cuddle and make out? Is that even a thing??
And if we’re becoming more, shouldn’t I know more about him? Like why he freaks out and chokes me in his sleep?
It’s later in the day, and we’ve yet to be brought anywhere, so we’re kind of just lounging in bed. My bed. Trevel is curled around me, and despite knowing I should probably get up, I can’t make myself break this spell. It’s too warm, too comfortable, too… nice.
It worries me how good this feels.
A chuckle rumbles into my chest from his, which obviously means he’s no longer dozing.
“What?” I ask, still playing with his silky black strands.
“Nothing,” he breathes peacefully. “Just remembering your whole ‘this won’t be a cuddlefest’ speech.”
I pull a scowl to disguise the grin. “Fuck off.”
“Such a sweet talker,” he growls, suddenly shifting. He rolls over, pinning me to the mattress, his hand rushing up my bare chest. In an instant, my heart is flying. “Tell me more about how this is just to pass the time, needy boy…”
A whimper leaves me, against my will, as he drags his crotch between my legs. And again, like a reflex, my legs are spreading for him.
It’s absolutely wild, but he brings out this yearning in me I never knew was there. Buzzing for the hurt, desperate to be overpowered and controlled, while still being able to control him… Is that a thing?
I guess we’re just versatile, in our sex and our kinks. And I like it.
I like our back and forth. The power struggle is… exhilarating.
I don’t think I stand a chance of resisting this. I wanted it outside of prison… Inside? I’m fucking feral for it.
Trevel’s lips fall to my throat, peppering it with kisses accompanied by the word mine. I’m all too prepared to get slutty, when a noise up the row signals someone, most likely one of the Warden’s guards, coming in to cockblock.
Trevel whines, dropping his face into the crook of my neck, “Fuckin hell…” Chuckling, I rub his shoulders. “They may not make us stop if we’re mid-fuck.” He lifts his head to peek down at me, cocking a dark brow.
“As tempting as that sounds, I think we gave more than enough of a show in the showers the other day,” I hum.
“You liked that,” he croons. “I know you did.”
I can feel a flush creeping up my neck into my cheeks as I squirm beneath him. “Shut up. Get off me before I knee you in the balls…”
“God, baby… I love your hostility,” he sighs, pecking my jaw once, twice, thrice, before he reluctantly pulls off of me.
I roll my eyes at him, but my body is proving his point when I have to wait a few seconds to stand up because my dick is rock-solid.
We play innocent when one of the robot minions shows up, not that he cares what we were doing. He just drags us out for another silent excursion.
Making the trip I’ve made hundreds of times over the last three years, I’m up in my thoughts. Considering how much it’s all changed and wondering if this is the new normal.
Is this how it’s going to be… forever?
Anxiety is thrumming in my bloodstream as we approach a couple of the other new guards. They’re herding a small group of inmates in the direction we’re coming from, and my heart clunks aggressively when I see Luthor, shuffling along by himself.
Fuck. He looks so sad. It’s awful.
I’ve seen Luthor sad before, more often than I wish I had. But there’s a new level of misery in this… Because unlike those other times, now we’re moving in opposite directions.
Our eyes meet as we pass one another, the silence seeming to stretch and warp the air of the dank hallway. It lasts only a few seconds, but the sorrow in his luminous gaze still manages to slice me deep. Not anger, nor malice.
Just brilliant green regret.
I’m…
Luthor, I’m…
My lips are parted, but it’s too late. He’s already gone.
Not that it would matter… We can’t fucking speak anyway.
I’m up in my thoughts the entire time we’re showering. Being in here, just like everything else, is so different now. I can’t lie and say I don’t enjoy showering with Trevel—it’s sinfully satisfying in the best fucking way. But being in this spot now, where so much of our time was spent over the years, attacks my heart with longing for the way things were…
The way Ren used to fuck around, always flirting and messing with us. How Luthor used to scold him and pretend he didn’t like it. I guess we both secretly did.
I miss it. I miss Joy’s sarcasm and quick wit, Rook’s kindness and empathy, and the giant douchebag himself… Believe it or not, I actually miss John Chevelle. His loud barking orders, and his cocky abrasive tendencies, but most of all, his stability. I miss being able to count on him. Whether it was good or bad, he was always there.
And now he’s gone. They all are.
Technically, they’re still here. They’re no longer a part of everyday life in this life sentence.
Jasper, Hancock, Peters… Hell, even Linetti and Brenner. I haven’t seen them in weeks, and it’s fucking crazy, but I miss them all. To get so used to people at the forefront, only for them to fade into the background, is jarring. No wonder people hate change so much… It sucks.
I just hope they’re finding some way to get by, too.
On our way back, Equino stops us before we can enter the row.
“Jefe says you’re to see the doctor,” he grumbles at Trevel.
Trevel looks surprised. I can practically hear him thinking, Right now?? But he covers it up quickly and nods. “Fine. But he’s coming with me.” He juts his thumb in my direction.
Equino glares at him for a moment, but eventually concedes with a curt purse of his lips. He glances up at the camera, then back to us. “Bueno. Just don’t forget… They’ll be watching.”
“Yea, yea. Big Brother. We got it,” Trevel mumbles, tugging me along.
We move through the corridors, heading in the direction of the East Wing. Since Trevel walks around here nonstop, he’s apparently found some shortcuts he likes. And as seems to be my default lately, I’m just following his lead.
“Isn’t it weird to be coming down here so late?” I ask, sort of thinking out loud. “Something seems… off.”
“I’ll say,” Trevel glances around. “Do you hear that?”
We stop walking for a moment and listen. He’s right. The winds are whipping outside, an audible storm raging just beyond the walls.
“Shit…” I murmur. “I wonder if we’ll lose power like last time.”
“Hmm… Right,” he grumbles, giving me the side-eye. “Last time.”
“What’s your problem?” I grunt, noting a darkness in his purple eyes, and a sudden intensity framing his features.
“Nothing,” he bites out. But doesn’t elaborate. As usual.
I can tell he wants to say something, but he always forces himself not to. I can’t say it’s not annoying, because it definitely is. I’ve given him as much information as you can give a person.
If he refuses to do the same for me, then fuck it. I’m not gonna beg.
I guess he doesn’t trust me… The way I trust him, despite him doing very little to actually earn it.
The mood between us has flipped in an instant. My despondence from earlier is mixing with the insecurities that follow my relationship with Trevel around like a shadow, until we’re both simmering and restless.
We come to a spot where the corridor splits. Trevel moves up to one door, but I hang back.
“Isn’t this way faster?” I nod at the other door.
He blinks. “No.”
My gaze narrows. I’m pretty sure it is.
Before we can argue about it any further, the door beside me bursts open, startling us both. Joy creeps through, pausing when she sees us—just standing around, visibly agitated.
“Oh… hey,” she mumbles suspiciously, eyes flicking between me and Trevel.
“Hey,” I sigh. I can’t even help it; I’m lighting up in her presence. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How have you been?”
Joy’s clearly edgier than usual, glancing at Trevel like she’s hesitant to speak in front of him. It’s keying up my frustration even more.
I’m forever caught in the middle of this bullshit I didn’t ask to be.
Trevel must catch on to Joy’s distrust, because he scoffs and rolls his eyes, going for the opposite door. “Why don’t I just give you two some privacy…”
