Chapter 4

• A woman. They’d sent a woman to watch him. Griffin was so surprised; all he could do was watch her. Of course, staring at her without pause made him feel even more awkward about it, so he did it from various positions in his space, hoping it was less obvious. The window reflection, sitting and appearing to glance around, even laying on his side on the cot.
• He wasn’t used to being around females, and definitely not alone with one. Thirty-three years and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d had a conversation with a woman. Did ten to fifteen words count as a conversation? He wasn’t sure.
• She was tall for a female, at least she appeared to be from this perspective. She hadn’t come near his cage, so he wasn’t one hundred percent on his guess of her height. She wasn’t talkative as he thought girls to be, but he had no real-life data to corroborate that observation, only hearsay from other males. His father, his brother, and all his human lackeys had made sure Griffin wasn’t near any of the females alone, ever. The few times he’d managed it, whether, through their lapse in judgment or his own, it hadn’t been under normal circumstances. Most females he’d been around were being held against their will and the women in those instances had been captives of the sick deprived individuals that in his opinion were lower than parasites on the scale of evolution. There hadn’t been conversation, only fear—of him and human women that didn’t shift; he’d only seen briefly in passing. It wasn’t like he went to social functions.
• She stood up and stretched and then reached to pull her hair up. He wasn’t sure what color to call it. It wasn’t red, at least not plain red. Would it be called auburn? There were lighter streaks through it, making him wonder what sort of shifter she was. He’d observed that many of their hair held some clue as to their creature side’s color. Her skin was pale, not in a sickly way and there were freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. The overall structure of her face was feminine and appealing. She was quite lovely to look at. Along her jaw and neck, her skin was darker and not as fair as the rest. He’d noticed her one hand was as well. He wasn’t sure what caused it and wondered if it would be appropriate to ask. Despite the contrast in the two skin tones, she was still lovely in his opinion.
• She hefted her bag onto the table Graham had sat at and began pulling things out of it. He couldn’t hide his surprise to see it was weapons. Two handguns and several knives. She fit them on her trim body without pause, telling him that she was more comfortable with them than without. He watched as she assembled with quick, smooth movements a type of rifle he’d never seen before. It was smaller, like it had been altered to be that way. When she checked the magazine, the sound broke into the silence with a startling effect. Once done, she lifted it and looked through the scope before nodding and placing it beside the door. His mind was all over the place. They’d sent a woman to watch him. A woman with guns and knives adorning her body.
• He cleared his throat, “do you do this a lot?” He paused when her gaze pinned him where he stood. “Babysit.” He clarified. The hard look in her eyes had thrown him for a few seconds it was such a contrast to her delicate and lovely face.
• “I do whatever is required.” She looked him up and down a few times and then went into the kitchen.
• An alliance soldier, he thought. He was still shocked that they had female soldiers. He’d overheard conversations from some of Aiden’s men about the female team members, even women Alpha’s that were in charge of entire clans. He knew the women that were taken were not the helpless beings his brother spoke of often. He’d seen gouges and injuries on some of Aiden’s men that told him how much they’d fight for themselves.
• Had he ever fought for anything in his life? Blowing out a breath, he went over to look out the window. After a few rebellious moments when he was a child, he’d learned to keep his head down, his mouth shut, and stay off his father’s radar as much as possible. Of course, doing that with Aiden had proved more difficult. His younger half-brother resented every cell of Griffin’s body. He’d repeatedly proven that by giving him the worst possible tasks. One of those was collaring the men, no boys, that would be forced to work and hold their own kind in captivity. That was the one that Griffin hated the most. Each time he secured one around another being’s throat, he felt like he had just sealed their fate and stollen their lives from them. He hated it even more than the ones he was ordered to kill. At least in death, he was granting them freedom from all the sick, twisted injustices they had suffered or would had they lived as Aiden’s possession.
• He smirked briefly, remembering the first few reports of the houses holding captives being raided. Aiden had gone ballistic, ranting like a complete lunatic. To Griffin, it was just his true colors showing. He didn’t know how they’d been found or their whereabouts now, but was silently cheering them on and hoping they found a life worth living now that they were free.
• “Do you want coffee or anything to drink?”
• He jolted and turned to see her standing at the kitchen door.
• “A coffee. Thank you. Black.” He pushed away from the window while trying to think of something else to say. She didn’t give him the opportunity to and was out of sight before he could speak another word.
• He felt a tremor in his hand and lifted it to see it shaking. It had been happening a lot the past two days. He knew the reason but wasn’t sure if he should say something about it. He turned and looked at the locked box his belongings had been placed in. Passport, driver’s license, phone, gun, and his medication. He’d always taken it, and now he had the chance to see what happened if he didn’t. He had no idea what the pills were as the bottle was unlabeled, the tablets unmarked, but he’d been told since he was twelve that they were wholly necessary so whatever animal DNA he had would stay dormant.
• He’d always complied for fear that if whatever he truly was came out, he’d find himself locked up, a collar around his neck, like the hundreds whose lives were stolen from them. Tucking his hand back into his pocket, he stared at the floor. He should probably ask for one of the pills. The idea of whatever was inside him coming out scared the hell out of him. He wasn’t a young boy whose body would give way to shifting. Doing so now could cripple him. Or worse, he may only half shift and then he’d be stuck like that for the rest of his life.
• The woman came out of the kitchen carrying two cups. Griffin had a quick flash of what life should have been if he’d been normal—until she set one on the table and opened his cage. That canceled out any fantasy thoughts he had. Setting the cup on the floor inside the wire, she stepped back and closed it again.
• Griffin reached down and picked up the cup. “I’m Griffin Ballard,” he blinked at his own stupidity, “which I’m sure you already knew.”
• She stood behind the table and looked across the room at him for a few seconds. Sitting down, she pulled the locked box over and glanced at her phone, and punched the code in on the pad. “Blaise.”
• That was it, no eye contact at all, just her name.
• He couldn’t very well say pleased to meet you like they were at a social gathering of some kind. With a nod to himself, he sat on the cot and sipped the coffee. It burned his mouth but was made the exact way he liked it. “Thanks.” He waited until she looked over at him, he lifted the cup, “for this.”
• She held his look for ten seconds at least and then jerked her chin once in an abrupt acknowledgment that he’s spoken at all.
• Oh, yes, he was brilliant with women.