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“I’ll tell Doctor Seytan you’re cleared for this afternoon’s therapy session. Go and enjoy your lunch.”
“Right. Thanks. Bye.”
I wonder if she’s telling Seytan to watch me closely for any signs of anything off. Probably. If the chip is messing with me, she’ll want to know.
I leave the infirmary and walk back the way I came, following my nose to locate the dining room. Once I enter and take my seat – the last to arrive again – the wait staff enter and drop off our lunches.
It’s some sort of grilled chicken salad. I pull a face.
“What’s wrong?” Honeymonster asks.
“Rabbit food.”
“Ah, we have therapy with Seytan next. You’re going to want a light lunch.”
“Not me,” I reply before calling out to the last waiter who’s just about to leave, “Excuse me?”
“Yes, miss?”
“Can I get something else please? I don’t like salad.”
He seems a little taken aback by my request but quickly nods. “Certainly. What would you like?”
“Steak and chips, all the trimmings. And a large, stodgy dessert. Something traditional.”
“Right away, miss. Coming up.” He turns and walks away.
“You’re going to regret that,” Honeymonster taunts.
“Bite me,” I snap
“With pleasure.” He winks at me, and my bad mood recedes a little.
I watch the others tucking into their food and wonder how the hell they can bring themselves to eat something that looks so bland and insipid.
My own dish soon arrives and I scoff it down. Every mouthful leaves a burning trail in my stomach, but I don’t care. It’s perfect, exactly what I wanted.
When I’m finished, I’m filled to bursting point, and when I stand I feel the food pressing against my stomach. I’m sure it’s going to erupt at any moment. But I needed those chips, and that bread and butter pudding.
The others all finished a while ago and have been waiting for me. Hatchet – sexy specimen that he is – has been staring at me with barely concealed amusement, and I vow to myself that I’ll up my efforts with him. He’s too gorgeous not to take for a ride.
“Come on. There’ll be hell to pay if we’re late,” Bones mutters, crossing to the door. I don’t care. Why does he think I would?
Nevertheless I follow them, like the good little sheep I am, and Nightshade leads us back to the lift. This time I don’t keep quiet, filling what little space in the elevator there is with my nervous chatter as we descend.
“Well, this is a bit cramped for an orgy, boys. Couldn’t you have found us a more roomy spot?”
Honey laughs and Snow scowls. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s even capable of another facial expression.
“Would you just shut up for once,” he snaps.
“No can do, fuckeroo,” I sing.
He grinds his teeth together and digs his fingernails into his palms, and I preen with satisfaction that I’ve managed to get under his skin yet again.
As the lift doors open, I follow the group out into a dimly lit hallway. The air is heavy with the scent of musk and sweat, and my pulse quickens with anticipation. What are we about to walk into?
IT DOESN’T TASTE BLUE
