Forget about me

Chapter seventeen

Alexandra

I have to say, it's a damn good tattoo. The artist did a great job and if the circumstances were different I'd be thanking him. Since they aren't all I do is scowl. He wraps my arm and goes on about how to take care of the tattoo. Since this isn't my first rodeo I zone out. I feel like a cow who's ears been marked so people can know who to return them too if they run away. They've branded me as theirs. Looking down at the ink, my urge to find the treasure and leave grows stronger. This tattoo will serve as a reminder for what they did and have now done to me. Each time my heart softens toward them, this will harden it once more. I will get my revenge, but first I have to survive long enough to.

I will use them. Their protection and their home. Until I find the treasure, I'll play the game by their rules whilst playing my own. I start making a list in my head.

1. Gain their trust.

2. Find the treasure.

3. Keep your head down.

4. Keep an eye out for Undead men.

I'll have to be methodical and take things slow whilst trying to be quick. It's hard not to freak out about the clock that's ticking above my head. I can hear it all the time. With every second Sebastian gets closer to finding me. Because he will find me if I stay here. It's a matter of when not if. Tick, tick, tick. It goes. Like a bomb counting down until it explodes. One of these days the ticks will end with boom.

"It looks good on you." Jem rocks back and forth on his feet, hands in his pockets. He's smart enough to be nervous about the consequences of their actions today. And there will be. Consequences that is. Believe me, sooner or later this evening will come back to bite them in the ass.

"It better look freaking amazing because it's going to be there for a while." I snap scowling up at him. "Can someone unchain me? Now!" I'm starting to get seriously claustrophobic. Is it claustrophobia if you're not in a small space but chained to something? Or is that called something different? No matter what it's called, it's a phobia of mine apparently. I wouldn't really know, I haven't been in chains that much. Not unwillingly at least. 

Ryder approaches keys in hand. Sinking to his knees in front of me he ducks his head and turns the lock. My mind flashes with images of my hands fisted in those dark strands. His head between my legs for completely different reasons. Suddenly, I am very grateful for the chains keeping my hands in place or who knows what I might have done. Cheeks heating up I can feel them go pink and look away as Ryder glances up hoping that my hair hides it.

My sights set on Hunter who's hanging back staring stoically ahead of him. His green eyes are bright with anger. White hair pulled back into a bun his chiselled jaw and high cheekbones look sharper than ever.

A high-pitched squeal jolts my eyes away from the pretty but angry man. Someone, that I can't see, is barrelling through the crowd moving really large men despise her or his size. Whoever it is, they don't seem to be very well liked. People roll their eyes and sigh as they pass squealing like a pig.

"Are my ears bleeding?" Cecilia pops up out of nowhere looking in the direction of the high-pitched noise.

"I'm surprised every single glass in here hasn't shattered." Jem answers.

A blonde muscled guy who's a bit shorter than Jem approaches. Stopping by my chair he nods in Hunters direction. "This should be fun." He murmurs looking excited at the prospect of some drama.

"Why?" I twist my head to look up at new guy. I realise that his eyes are mismatched. One blue and the others split. Half of the iris the same blue as his right eye but the other half is a light brown. "Woah, pretty." I breathe.