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Chapter 1
Iknewaprisonbreak was underway because of the cum.
Sighing, I stood under one of my two stolen umbrellas in the yard of Silver Springs Penitentiary and watched the cum rain down. Not in a porno orgy-type way, but literally. The cum fell from a sky the color of wet concrete, the sticky globs splattering on the bare pavement and the little weeds that had pushed their way through the cracks to find not the sunlight they needed, but streaks of falling spunk, which no one needed. Not ever.
But try convincing my old friend Juniper of that. The cum could only mean she was trying to bust me out of prison again. I wished she’d hurry the fuck up already; not for me—I wasn’t leaving—but for the creature that stood under my second umbrella: a beaver.
Not in a vagina or a kid from a shitty old TV show way, but a literal beaver with a wide flat tail and buck teeth and little hands that held the only stick I could find in this shit hole that passed as an outdoor space.
She wore sunglasses shaped like hearts, a little yellow rain hat, and a brown collar dotted with colorful gems. Somehow that was enough to convince the guards and the entire legal system that, yes, she was a magical person who had been convicted of a crime and not a, you know, literal goddamn beaver. Who was apparently named Beverly according to her court records.
No wonder I had gotten away with crimes for so long.
I watched a strand of cum drop off the edge of my rainbow umbrella.
Stick your tongue out and taste it, my brain said.It’s magical. It’s safe.
I’d sooner eat gas station sushi.
Maybe it tastes like salty pineapple. We haven’t had pineapple in a long time.
Oh, fuck off.
Over the sound of splattering cum, someone was whistling a tune I had never heard before. It rose and fell like sobs made of music. Normally, the whistling and other human noises of this place drove me as nuts as… Well, the nuts that could produce all this cum. But this tune sent goosebumps down my spine.
I glanced over my shoulder toward the prison building and saw a man strolling across the yard toward me and the beaver. He held a newspaper over his head, and it sagged over his ears, heavy with spunk. But he didn’t rush, and he didn’t turn back to the shelter of the building like everyone else had—clearing out the yard before a break-in was probably why Juniper had sent the cum rain in the first place.
He had light brown skin and curly dark hair a shade lighter than his neatly trimmed beard. Even in the gray, his dark eyes caught the light like pools of water caught the moon.
Ew, where had that poetic shit come from?
I didn’t recognize him, and he wore the standard orange jumpsuit without any personal touches—he was new here. Though he was pleasant to look at, and though his deep whistle of a sad tune made my skin shiver, I narrowed my eyes. He was only trekking out here to see someone he had never met because he wanted something.
He stopped across from me. “Figures that the apocalypse came and I’m locked in here rather than strapping a chainsaw to my arm and outfitting a car with spears.” His voice was rich and musical like poured dark chocolate. “This is one of the signs of the apocalypse, isn’t it? Pestilence, locusts, cum.”
I scoffed. “Every asshole thinks they’d be the fucking hero if forced by zombies or aliens or some shit. But none of them choose to be one now when it’s relatively easy and when we still need them.”
Rather than insulting me like most men did when I called them out, he grinned, making his eyes crinkle.
Like a cutey, cute-cute, my brain said.Reach out and squish his face.
I ignored her.
“Maybe I’m already a badass,” he said. “After all, we just met. I could be anyone.” He waved to Beverly. “Just like your shifter friend here.”
Great, another idiot who thought this poor beaver had somehow bested the ward that blocked magic from the prison. “She’s not a shifter.”
Beverly nibbled the stick in her hands. Poor thing shouldn’t be here. I glanced to the sky for a sign of Juniper’s break-in but saw only thinning cum. Where the fuck was she?
“Is she an illusion?” the man asked.
“She’s a fucking beaver.”
His grin widened, brightening up his entire face like a spotlight cast just on him. “She doesn’t look like she’s fucking a beaver.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is that supposed to be charming?”
“It’s supposed to be funny,” he said as though he wasn’t even offended. “Can I squeeze under your umbrellas until the cum passes?”
