Page 42 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

The question was whether I should try that with my mate, while knowing it wasn't what she wanted. And that wasn't a question I had an answer for.

There was a knock at my door. I expected whoever was there just to open it. Jazz and Grayson had never cared much about privacy, and after being in the prison, it was far from an expectation.

They didn't open it.

I left my phone on the bed and crossed the room, pulling it open to find Jazz on the other side.

She'd changed into an oversized hoodie and a pair of the leggings she'd always worn before we went to the prison. Her hair was wet, her eyes were bright, and she smelled like River.

"Hey. Can I come in?" She glanced past me.

I opened the door wider, and she slipped inside.

I started to close it, but she said, "Leave it open. I don't want rumors circulating. River trusts us, but the last thing we need is for Ophelia to hear some kind of rumor about us. She already seems like a flight risk."

Ah.

That was going to take some getting used to. Having someone else to worry about in that way, all of the time.

I left the door open, padding back to my bed as Jazz curled up in a ball on the armchair nearby.

"Everything feels so weird out here. The furniture's too comfortable. The food's too good. The clothes are too soft," she said, lowering her chin to rest on top of her knees.

"We could have bigger problems."

"Like being mated to a fallen angel who refuses to own a phone?" she teased, but there was no real humor behind it.

"I've been putting off choosing a mate for a long time, and I could've done a hell of a lot worse. How are you feeling?" I changed the subject as I settled on my back on the bed again.

Yes, my situation with Ophelia was messy, but that was between us. Considering our mates' complicated past, I couldn't talk freely with Jazz about my situation.

She sighed. "I go back and forth between feeling like prison life is still reality, or like it was all just a bad dream. But then I see River sprawled out on my bed, and honestly, I'm glad it happened. How about you?"

"The adjustment is… uncomfortable."

"Clearly. You're wearing sweatpants. You never used to do that."

I glanced down.

I had put on sweatpants. The only pair I owned.

"Might have to buy a few more pairs of them," I admitted.

Her lips curved. "Oh, the horror."

"I know."

"What are the odds we'll even find Ophelia again? You might straight-up starve to death, Dante."

"Gray knows where she lives, and she's not going to let me starve. We're... friends. Sort of."

"You did snuggle a lot. And you obviously fucked."

"Had to sell the story." I fought the urge to clench my jaw with the words. It hadn't been just selling a story for me. I'd been fascinated by Ophelia since the moment I saw her.

"Is that the only reason you were fucking?"

I remembered the feel of her feathers against my cheek, as she slept deeply, like she trusted me. Her tight muscles beneath my fingers, while I worked on the painful knots in the muscles around her wings. Her face against my throat, as she cuddled in close.