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“Lovely. Now I’m talking to spiders who clearly don’t want to listen to me.” I release the bars with a sigh, the water from the leaky shower head dripping onto my forehead. My father installed it in the roof above my cage so I could have a way to stay clean. I also have a toilet for… Well, you know. Other than a bed, some clothes, and personal hygiene items, that pretty much sums up my lovely iron bar palace.
Wiping the water from my head, I scoot back in my cage until my back brushes against the piles of new pillows my sister recently brought me. Honestly, I don’t get why I need so many—my small cage doesn’t have very much room. But my sister looked so excited when she gave them to me that I didn’t have the heart to tell her no thank you.
“Well, at least they’re comfortable. Although, awfully frilly.” I sink back against the pillows and watch the clock tick.
One, two, three hours drift by. I don’t have a window in my room, but I think sundown should be arriving soon. Which means all those evil, eerie monsters that go bump in the night will be coming out of their caves to torment the citizens of the town (again, this is all from what I was told by my parents). Creatures like me. My sister being a human is at great risk if she crosses paths with anything fanged or venomous. She could end up dead, like my parents. I miss them like crazy. Miss the way my mom used to read me bedtime stories, and when my father brought me an extra cookie from the kitchen. And even though they could never touch me, hug me, or hold my hand, they told me they loved me and that they wished things could be different for me, that I would’ve been born normal like my sister.
After they died, my sister was stuck with the responsibility of taking care of me. I feel sorry for her even though she insists she’s okay with the situation. I can tell it wears her down, though. And who can blame her. She’s nineteen years old, in college, has a cute boyfriend—at least he looked cute in the photo she showed me—and a ton of friends. Yet, she comes to visit and take care of me, like a good sister. Every day.
Except for today.
“Where is she?” I mutter, eyeing the time on the clock. “She should’ve been here by now.”
Maybe I’m overreacting. She could’ve decided to stay at a friend’s house or her boyfriend’s for the night. But I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning, when she brought me a day’s worth of food with the promise to come back today. My sister may be flaky, but she’d never let me starve.
Something’s wrong.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, the doorknob to my chamber twists.
I bolt upright and scoot toward the door of my cage, excited she’s here. And relieved. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was beginning to worry…” My jaw nearly hits the floor as the door swings open.
The person standing in my doorway isn’t my sister, but a guy dressed in black jeans and a matching T-shirt and boots. He looks on the taller side, has fiercely teal eyes, heavily inked arms, and dark hair that hangs across his forehead and curls up at his ears. His brow and lip are pierced and a series of black rings cover his fingers. I don’t know much about guys, but I’d guess most girls would consider him extremely good looking. Well, except for the pissed off scowl he’s sporting. That takes his hotness down a notch or two, unless you have a thing for brooding guys.
I eye him over, wondering who he is and why he’s here. When a strange scent of earth and spices burns at my nostrils, I tense, suddenly aware he isn’t human. I don’t know how I know this, though. Just like I don’t know what he is. What I do know is having an unknown, otherworldly creature in your room is never a good thing.
Chapter 3
I inch away from the entrance of my cage with my gaze trained on the intruder. “You’re not my sister.”
His brow teases upward as he casually leans against the doorjamb. “Really? What tipped you off?”
I haven’t interacted with anyone outside of my mom, dad, and sister and none of them are fans of sarcasm. But I’ve watched enough movies and read enough books, that I’m fairly certain he’s being sarcastic. From what I understand, the best way to deal with sarcasm is to match it.
If only I knew how…
Guess I’ll never figure it out until I try.
I clear my throat. “Well, definitely not your girlie hair and facial features.”
His arched brow plops down into a furrow. Then he stares at me hard, making me feel like a zoo animal.
“That was my first try at sarcasm,” I explain, wondering if I missed the mark and he thought I was being serious. “I don’t really think you look like a girl.”
“Thanks for explaining the obvious.” The crinkle at his brow erases as he straightens his stance and enters my room, his heavy boots thudding against the concrete floor.
I open my mouth to warn him not to come any closer. Otherworldly creature or not, he deserves to know what my touch can possibly do to him. But the words get stuck on my lips as he nears my cage. No one has ever been this close to my cage except for my family, and they always hurry and drop food, clothes, and cleaning supplies before backing away quickly.
I watch him in awe as his gaze skims the low ceiling and the water dripping down the walls. There’s a guy in my room. A stranger. Why do I feel so excited about this?
When he’s finished inspecting my room, he turns to me with a smirk on
his face. “Lovely set up you have here.”
Okay, I think he’s being sarcastic again.
“Thank you.” I attempt to sound more sarcastic this time, hoping I don’t fail epically again. “My interior designer will be so pleased to hear that you like her work.”
He stares at me unimpressed, but for the briefest instant the corners of his lips twitch. “Very funny.”
“Um… Thanks?” I reply, unsure if we’re being sarcastic anymore.
With an eye roll, he begins wandering around the outside of the cage, tracing his fingers along the bars. I have the strongest urge to reach out and brush my fingers along his, but I haven’t touched anyone since I was three years old when my parents informed me that one day I’d turn into a monster. They said we needed to take precautionary measures to make sure I never, ever hurt anyone and that’s when the cage became my home.
Reminded of their warning never to touch anyone, I cower back in my cage and hug my knees to my chest. “You shouldn’t do that,” I whisper.
He stops walking, but his hand remains on the bars. “Do what?”
“Touch my cage,” I say quietly. “You shouldn’t even be in my room.”
His fingers wrap around the bar. “And why’s that?”
The amusement dancing in his eyes deeply confuses me. Why does he think this is funny?
“Because I’m poison… If you touch me… something bad could happen.” I cast a panicked glance at the door. “How did you even get in here? Wasn’t the house locked? Or did my sister let you…” My body stiffens. “Wait. Did you do something to my sister? Is that why I haven’t seen her all day?”
He stares at me for an unnerving amount of time before pushing away from the bars and crossing his arms. “How long have you been locked up?”
“No. I’m not answering any of your questions until you answer mine first.” I kneel up in my cage and put my hands on my hips. “Did you do something to my sister?”
