CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 86

However, as soon as my attention hit the restroom's swinging door and I heard the faint flush of a toilet, true to nature, my body reminded me it was time to relieve myself.

Graysen was preoccupied with the messages flooding in on his phone. He frowned, squinting at the screen, scrolling downward, and muttering beneath his breath, "Hells, fucking hells."

Whatever was going on, I didn't care, I fucking needed to pee—now! I tapped him on the shoulder. "I need to go to the bathroom." It was the second prod when he finally glanced across at me.

"Huh?"

I arched an exasperated eyebrow, flipping up a hand and pointing to the restroom door we were approaching. "The restroom. I need to visit it."

"Yeah, sure," he murmured. But with the faraway quality of his gaze, I knew he wasn't listening to me properly.

"Just make sure I can reach that far," I bit back, tapping the rope around my neck. I had no idea how far my leash stretched.

He nodded in a distracted way, before going back to his phone. His brow furrowed deeply and he rubbed his mouth, completely absorbed with whatever message he was reading.

It was Luther who slowed his pace and ordered one of the younger men to escort me. I peeled away, while the others carried on toward the market. Graysen's pace picked up and his attention was split between rapidly typing a message on his phone and glancing furtively ahead as if he were looking for someone.

The bodyguard accompanying me was male, so when I pushed through the swinging door leading to the female restrooms, he had to remain outside. "Five minutes," he ordered quietly. I rolled my eyes, because what could I do with the godsdamned rope around my throat? It wasn't as if I could make a break for it. I couldn't escape through one of the tiny bathroom windows as I'd often seen in films or television shows.

The bathroom was large and split into two separate areas by a partial wall of basins backed by tall mirrors that crossed its middle. There weren't that many women in the bathroom. A tall athletic girl with a messy black bun leaned over a round basin, squinting at her reflection, and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. The flush of a toilet eddied away and a sophisticated-looking woman in an expensive skirt suit exited a stall, a Hermès handbag hanging off the crook of her elbow as she sashayed over to the row of stylish basins. I padded across the tiled floor and ducked around into the back area. Here, out of view, it was a reverse setup of the front area with long rows of mirrored basins and stalls.

Finding one free, I entered, shut the stall's door, and snipped the lock. I fluffed about with my skirt and panties, sat down, and went about my business, all the while thinking about this strange afternoon I'd experienced in Graysen's company. I was just as curious about Tabitha Crowther's friendship with a Horned God as I was about the Purveyor of Rarities himself. How many of those otherworldly beasts we served were part of the collective yet didn't prey on mortals? How many Horned Gods resided outside of the collective? Though Florin was scary, from the brief moments I'd observed of his interaction with Graysen in the office he also seemed nice. And his magnificent lair...I could have stayed in his shop for years and still not had enough time to catalog everything he'd collected.