Breaking Ties: Broken Mirrors, Book 4 by Vaughn R. Demont

Author:Vaughn R. Demont
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance;glbt;gay;shape-shifter;shifter;coyote;dragon;magic;urban fantasy;love triangle;dwarves;sorcerer;wizards;witches;first person POV
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2015-04-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Spencer

December 20, 8:18 am

Being kidnapped sucks.

If you couldn’t tell, I’m aiming for the Understatement of the Year Award. I hear the winner gets a toaster.

I’m currently in a small ten-by-ten room, cinder-block walls, no windows, one door, a small air vent near the ceiling and a bare light bulb above the door. I’m not tied up, just sitting in a corner. The air is cold. I was put in here a few hours ago, maybe more. I slept a little. I’m starting to lose track of time, wondering what the sun looks like, stuff like that.

My throat’s also sore, but that happens when you run through the entire Tenacious D catalog three times. I was hoping to annoy them into something, but it would seem I don’t have a guard outside the door, which is a little insulting. I figure that someone like me would at least rate adult supervision.

Considering all the info I promised them, I have to guess this is part of the interrogation process before they put the electrodes to my nipples, or whatever else Fae think up. If fairy tales are any indicator, they can come up with some plenty sick shit.

The process of getting here was standard, at least as far as TV goes. I was stuffed in the trunk of the car, driven around enough that I had no idea where we ended up, and had a bag yanked over my head when I was taken out. The only glimpse I got was of a parking garage, so at least I’m still in the City. We weren’t on the road long enough to have made it to the Capital.

After that, I was stripped and thrown back in here with my clothes soon afterward. My pockets are empty, my cards are gone, but thankfully they’re just standard playing cards. A couple bucks at a c-store would easily replace them. Times like this I wish I’d had the foresight to stash some cards or something in the lining of my coat, but thinking ahead isn’t really the strong suit of Coyotes. All I can do is tell myself to have that ready for next time and hope it sticks.

Also to hope there will be a next time.

And I mean a next time to be prepared, not that I hope I’m kidnapped again.

Nobody’s looking at me, so I could just as easily turn myself into a coyote, but then I’d just be a coyote in a closed room. I don’t see the advantage, other than having a different method of pissing on the wall.

Which gets old after the first time.

Since singing off-key and marking my territory haven’t had any effect, I try banging on the door repeatedly.

Nothing.

Apparently they’re trying to bore me to death. I’ve seen this on TV too. They let me sit and stew until I reach the point where I’m willing to talk about anything, so long as it means social interaction.

But they made a fatal error.

I’ve seen enough movies, enough times to know them line for line.

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