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“You were having a nightmare.”
“Oh.” It was barely more than a whisper. She clutched at her throat. “Can I have some water?”
“No.” He was too drunk to stumble to the kitchen and even if he wanted to, it was probably locked.
She raised her brow, clearly not expecting that response. She stood and had to grab her sweatpants to keep them from falling off of her hips. She held on tight and inched closer to the door and closer to Nik. He removed his hands from the bars and stepped back. It wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t like this tiny woman could hurt him, but he’d rather not be within her reach.
She was close enough that he could make out the features on her face. Her big eyes, pupils dilated in the dark. Her pale, flawless skin and fluffy red lips. “What are you doing here?”
He was mesmerized by the way her lips moved in his drunken stupor.
He actually had no idea what he was doing here. Standing in front of her now, he felt somewhat foolish. He had only come here for a key and now he was staring at a prisoner’s lips. His brain was melting, turning him into a bumbling idiot, and she was staring at him with such poise. He wasn’t accustomed to this shift in power dynamics.
He needed to leave, and quickly, before he said or did something stupid. He quickly scanned the rest of her body, his eyes catching on her lower half.
“Those pants look completely ridiculous.”
Too late. He had said something stupid.
Her eyes flickered in surprise as he turned to go, and he was pretty sure he saw a soft smile cross her face. Meanwhile, his cheeks burned red.
He practically ran from the prison, from Blondie. His surroundings were nothing more than a blur. All he saw was her face. Her eyes. Her lips.
He would spend the rest of the evening trying to forget about those lips.
***
Chapter Eight
Ali woke up sweating, tangled up in the thin blanket she’d been provided. It was the worst night of sleep in her entire life. It was impossible for her to distinguish between what was real and what was a dream. Like the guard who had come to her cell in the middle of the night.
Was that real?
As she rolled over in bed, she was met with a blinding light beaming in from the high window in her cell. She squinted her eyes to guard against the harsh sunlight. She had no sense of time in this place. Was it morning? Afternoon?
She tensed when she spotted a tray of food and water at the door. Someone had been to her cell while she was sleeping. The thought of someone sneaking in while she lay unconscious unnerved her.
Her toes turned painfully cold when they touched the floor. She could’ve sworn she had some socks on, but she must’ve kicked them off in the night while twisting and turning. She threw back the blanket, searching the bed for her missing socks before slipping them on and approaching the tray.
Cold vegetable soup. That’s what they had left her to eat. Or maybe it had been warm at one point and she had just slept too long. She grabbed the tray to take it back to bed when she noticed something else had been left.
She picked up the monochrome bundle of cloth and let it unfold. Another pair of sweatpants, at least four sizes smaller than the ones she currently had on, and a smaller shirt as well. She let out a soft chuckle that echoed against the bare walls of the cell.
So that did happen, then.
She had a blurry memory of Nik standing with his hands on the bars of her cell. He had looked flustered and was having a hard time forming words. It had been charming, in a way. Then he had looked down at her with those dark eyes, making her knees weak, and mocked the way her clothes hung from her body. It was a kind gesture to provide these substitutes.
She shook her head and blinked away the memory. That was not a memory she wanted to relive. The butterflies in her stomach felt traitorous. It was hard to not think of him, though. There was nothing else in the cell to distract her, so instead her mind kept making up scenarios, filling in the gaps of what she knew about this stranger.
Was he smart? Was he funny? Did he have friends? What was his life like? She made up several characterizations of him, like he was a blank canvas and she was his artist.
A commotion sounded somewhere down the hall, but it was too muffled to tell what it was. Several voices blurred together, and at first it was impossible to make out distinct words. Then one voice moved closer to her cell.
A loud, booming voice could be heard now. “Let’s go, ladies and gentlemen. Time for a tour. Everyone be ready in five minutes.”
A tour? Ali was curious to see beyond her cell. She changed into the smaller clothes as quickly as possible and gulped down the cold soup. It tasted terrible, but she choked it down anyway. She wasn’t sure when her next meal would be, and she needed the energy.
She was ready by the time a guard came to unlock her door and motioned her down the hall where others were filing out of their respective cells. The guards shuffled them through the halls and into a larger common area with an opening to the sky in the middle. The ground had a dusting of snow, and the outer walls were made of tan stone overgrown with vines. Around the perimeter, there were a few simple benches and a few more around a fire pit in the center. The sun peeked through, giving it a majestic feel. If they weren’t in a prison, it would’ve been quite beautiful.
