Stop (Cold Mark Book 3) by Scarlett Dawn

Half-naked in preparation for a shower, I held Jax’s note in a white-knuckled grip.
    I read it again. And again . I skimmed the contents too many times to count.
    Escape. I wanted my own life so badly I could cry.
    A person doesn’t know just how blessed they are until their freedom is taken away.
    I may not be behind laser blocks in a Mian prison, but Triaz was my own personal jail cell.
    With too many unanswered questions trapping my thoughts, I prayed with all my might for patience before I scrutinized the bathroom for a place to dispose of the note—without it being found. My eventual grimace was warranted. The safest hiding spot would be if I ate the piece of paper. Many waste receptacles—including toilets—sounded an alarm if an item was placed inside it that shouldn’t be there.
    With my lips thin in determination, I tore the note into tiny pieces and quickly stuffed them into my mouth. My nose scrunched, chewing the wad for a gruesome minute. I swallowed it down.
    It sure as hell didn’t taste like candy. More like paste and cardboard. But the deed was done.
    I efficiently removed the rest of my clothing and lifted my left leg to step into the bathtub.
    And froze.
    One leg still up in the air, I stared down between my naked thighs.
    And screamed as if the room were on fire.
    It sure felt like my vision was.
    “What in the mother fucking hell?” I shouted. My eyes were glued between my legs.
    I patted my intimate flesh repeatedly, even wiping back and forth. Nothing changed.
    That just wasn’t right .
    The gawking couldn’t be helped— hell, no —but reality brazenly intruded when I heard the door bash open to the Plumas’ bedroom. Moving like a panther, I lowered my leg and grabbed my large towel. I would not be caught naked with a blatant…issue. Using lightning quick actions, I had it wrapped around my bare body just as the bathroom door ripped off its hinges and flew inside, slamming like a rocket against the double vanity. The halo-mirror above the sinks vibrated and then wavered as the two Plumas entered the silent bathroom, making their reflections appear like they were deadly spirits straight from the pits of the underworld.
    The door teetered further to the side and hit the tile floor with a resounding thunk at my feet.
    Phila and Killeg’s eyes smoldered, the glow so harsh in the contained room, I almost lifted one of my hands to shield my own gaze. Wrath permeated the air like I was caught in a sticky web, and a petrified shiver wracked down my spine. I would never want to be on their bad side—ripped limb from limb with no real effort on their part. Their chests heaved as their blazing eyes took in my person from head to toe, and then swung across the room, scanning the area for an enemy—a foe they wouldn’t find.
    I held perfectly still in light of their fury, though my thoughts started to calm as a suspicious awareness hit. My regard altered between each of them, focusing on their hair, silently analyzing the bold, white hue—until their glowing gazes slammed back in my direction. My eyelashes swept down as I blinked ever so slowly.
    Holy… shit . I couldn’t be right. There was no way. No…way.
    But if I were, I held one hell of a power chip over their heads. One that could end their lives.
    And quite possibly wreck mine even further than it already was—which was a valid reason to keep my mouth shut on this assumption. It was only a speculation needing further assessment—not to mention, a cunning scheme on how to complete said assessment.
    Bless Mother Joyal, I was trained in tactics and had scored high on all tests involving stratagem.
    This night was either the beautiful beginning of many possibilities. Or my ruin.
    Staring into their radiant eyes, I decided I wanted to go back to bed. And stay there.
    It was too damn early in the evening to act a cool headed role.
    And, apparently, I sucked at lying. Joyal teachers really should have a technical course on it.
    Killeg’s