Page 21 of The Bonds of Indigo

He lingers close enough that I can feel his presence at my back. I reach forward, searching for the page. When my slick fingers find the edge, I bend over it and begin to write my name.

A.M.A.R.A.H. H.O.L.L.Ø.W.A.Y.

Once done, I drop the pen and step back.

Butcher snatches the paper—I can hear it by the sharp rustle—then I turn my back to him. He grunts, sounding less than pleased, but I’ve already given what I was meant to. And in return, I got something I didn’t want.

A reminder that freedom isn’t meant for someone like me.

Painful, really.

My space is suddenly invaded, and I wonder if this man has ever heard of personal boundaries. I turn, tilting my head up though my eyes stay shut.

He doesn’t speak at first. I can feel him looking at me, maybe to assess my truth? At this point, there is no real reason to give him a false name.

“Thanks,” he says at last, his voice low, fading with his retreating steps.

I wait until I hear the door opening before I dare to open one eye. Just enough to see his back disappear through the threshold.

Good luck, Vamp.

With a small exhale, I shut my eye again, turn toward the wall, and wait to be chained back.

Chapter 6

Amarah Holloway.

What’s with the odd o? I searched the name with and without it. Nothing. Not a single hit. No social feed, no record. That’s impossible; there’s always someone with every name combination out there.

I found plenty of Amarah’s, plenty of Holloway’s, but nothing together.

I drag my thumb across the paper, over the smeared blood and the faint outline of the letters she scrawled. It took me a minute to even make them out through all the red. Irritating as all Beyond. Not just because I nearly had to make her rewrite it, but because her blood smelled incredible.

I’ve met modern Witches before, but I’ve never fed on one. Not really had the chance.

Her scent… Gods, it was like a sun-soaked garden after rain—sweet fruit, sharp citrus, with something electric underneath it all. The moment she cut her finger, the air itself changed; it crawled under my skin.

I’ll definitely have to track down a Witch for me to play with when this is all done, hopefully with Lucifer to indulge with me.

I’m staring down at my cock and watching it harden at just remembering how delightful she smelled, when my phone rings. I’ve been laying here in bed naked since I got to this run-down hotel about an hour’s drive from the penitentiary, waiting for a friend to get back to me.

Answering and putting on the speaker, I rest my phone onto my bare chest. “It’s a good thing I’m a patient man.”

Atlas laughs. “I called the wrong number it seems.”

I tut. “Watch it, smart guy. How’re you?”

He hums for a long moment, as if turning the simple question over in his head.

“Pretty good. It’s been a while. When you texted, I had to check if I was dead. The Kayn Butcher, asking me for a favor after six years of silence.”

Atlas, a militia buddy, helped me with an undercover drug bust in the City of Lights, Nevadia.

He’s Mundane, but he’s got the backbone of a Demon. Jumped in front of a moving getaway van like he could stop the damn thing. Earned my respect, and a few days in the hospital.

“How about you?”

“Could be better. Had an interesting month.”