Colin was surprised that the food Taron brought him was no prison slop but nice, if simple, warm meals consisting of meat and vegetables with either rice, potatoes or beans. In the monotony of his new life, playing a guessing game of what the next dish would be was almost exciting.
The cats provided a lot of Colin’s entertainment, since Colin was a fast reader, and since he wasn’t allowed outside, time became a straight line.
The sound of Taron’s footsteps made Colin sit up and move closer to the bars of his tiny prison. The height of the cage wouldn’t allow him to stand, but a week in, he was almost used to finding comfort in the confines of the bars.
Taron’s intentions were still a mystery, because since the obscene proposal on day one, Taron hadn’t attempted to molest or otherwise hurt Colin. Sure, he wasn’t exactly providing him with much comfort, but he seemed as displeased with the situation as Colin was. Was there some feature Taron chose his victims for that Colin didn’t have, or had he been left alive because the kill had been the result of a conflict?
The fact that Colin had witnessed the murder put them in a conundrum that neither knew how to solve. “Jeez, I thought you’d never come down.”
As usual, Taron was followed by an avalanche of cats, and his brisk steps told Colin his wound was healing well. Rio slid in through the bars, meowing with the insistence of acivil defense siren and demanding attention. Colin pulled him into his lap, staring at Taron’s somber expression. Sometimes, he wondered whether Taron’s insistence on never acknowledging Colin with a word was his way of distancing himself from a man he would have to eventually dispose of.
Colin’s throat ached with sudden worry, and the furry creature in his arms was the only consolation. His heart beat faster every time Taron came down there, both at the joy of having company, and in fear that maybe this was the day Taron felt ready for his next kill.
He’d been thinking a lot about his future there, and frightened thoughts kept directing him to the pile of porn mags by the armchair. Maybe he should try to make himself useful after all, if nothing else worked? It wasn’t as if Taron was hideous, but the fact that Taron had to dispose of the waste bucket for Colin killed any sexual tension that might have ensued otherwise.
It was humiliating, yet Colin was ready to grasp at straws if there was the slightest chance of gaining ground in this war.
With his insides shivering, Colin pressed his cheek against the bar and caught Taron’s thick, hairy forearm when the man scooted down to place the warm meal by the cage. It had to be nice outside, since Taron was wearing a T-shirt. Plain brown, with a pair of camo pants and heavy boots.
He looked up at Colin, but the firmness of his muscles and the warmth of skin that had been in the sun for most of the day were so distracting Colin didn’t answer the unspoken question at first.
“Uh, I’m bored. Is it warm outside? You’re tanned,” Colin said, still holding onto the first human he’d touched in approximately a week.
Taron nodded, making Colin’s heart jitter. This was the first time his words had been acknowledged. If Colin’s mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, Taron’s beard seemed a bit tidier too. Still dark and bushy, but less rough around the edges.
Colin licked his lips, knowing it would draw attention to his mouth. He could suck off Taron—no problem—if it got him a short walk outside. Now that he was positive the guy wasn’t some serial pervert, seduction seemed like a valid option in negotiations. “I’m so bored I’d even read those porn mags,” he said, keeping his tone light, semi-innocent, to keep Taron in the dark as to whether it was a joke or not. It was true though. He’d flicked through the ones he’d been able to reach, before returning them to the pile.
Even though Colin knew he was dealing with a monster, his heart still skipped a beat when he felt Taron’s attention focus on him. He’d had time to assess every single bit of Taron whenever he visited him, and Taron’s hands were something that always drew Colin’s interest. If only he could disassociate their size, the thickness of fingers, and the grooves that spoke of physical work from what he’d seen Taron do to his victim, he’d consider them hot.
Taron nudged the plate Colin’s way, as if trying to entice an ill animal to eat.
Colin sighed, leaning against the bars with a disappointed expression. Could that work? After all, if Taron had the heart for his cats, why wouldn’t he extend the same to his newest pet?