Ruby Shadows

Molten

I'm not sure when I woke. A thin blanket covered my body up to my shoulders, and I lay on a cot at least a foot off the ground. I couldn't complain; this was the most comfort I'd been given in years, and I wasn't about to critique the way Emerald handled their captives. The cage across from mine sat empty but just like my old cell with Peter, mice scurried around with their tails in the air. I watched them, my eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. In the bunker, I ate rats to get by but these didn't dare come near me. Whether my smell scared them away or the daring gaze I held, I wasn't sure. Either way, I enjoyed the loneliness of an empty cell. The stones were wet with morning moisture. A thin stream of light penetrated a crack near the ceiling. While the ray stayed out of my reach even when on my toes, I watched it. It dimmed whenever someone walked by outside but it always returned. Golden streaks lit up the dust fluttering through the air. I rolled over on my back, the net canopy creaking as I moved. The blanket caught under my hip and pulled, exposing one of my legs but I didn't bother to fix it. The injuries spread over the skin across my back ached with my movements. The pain was evident on my face in my scrunched features and quiet yelps as I adjusted to keep the pain at bay.

Shortly after the dark-haired man placed me in the cell, he fled. I didn't expect much out of him; other than the heat he evoked from my skin he paid me little attention. But I missed the blonde. Jaxon was warm but not scorching. The burning fire that torched my bones whenever the other man touched me wasn't something I wanted to get used to, yet I savored the feeling and yearned for it. I had no words for the feeling. I knew the sensation mates felt. My parents told me about it when I was younger. Sparks. An electric shock that fried your senses. This felt like nothing I had ever heard about. No sparks or fireworks followed by burning passion. Just an intense burn singing my nerve endings.

Similar to Peter's bunker, water dripped from ceiling cracks. Each bead a ding against the unnerving quiet in my cell. With each drop of water, my shoulder twitched. I let my head hit the net canopy and I returned my attention to the mice on the other side of the hall. Along with the drips of water and the scurries of mice, a new sound hit me. Footsteps made from heavy boots covered in sticky mud followed by the huffs of strangled lungs. I craned my head so I had a clear view of the hallway as Jaxon and the dark-haired man came into view. They were both clad in dark colors and boots covered in the same mud as the previous evening. I scrunched my brows and slid on my backside until my back pressed into the wall behind me. The cot groaned under my weight; the blanket fell to my lap in a tangle of scratchy fabric.

Jaxon's hands worked diligently to unlock the door. Only Jaxon touched the door; the other stayed a pace behind him. They were both careful to not touch the bars. After the door swung open the two men stepped in, Jaxon closer than the other. My feet struggled to press me further into the wall but my body already flattened against it. With nowhere else to go, I lowered my head and pulled my knees close. I wrapped my arms around my calves, my fingers linked together.

My lungs hitched in my throat and I gulped, eyes wide. I didn't dare look either in the eyes. I kept my gaze on the floor, on my bare feet curling from the weak netting holding them off the ground. The two men were opposites, features-wise. One, a snow blonde, and the other with raven hair like mine. Jaxon stood just short of the other man, but he was built like a bull.