Chapter Eight

Waylon's room was about as bizarre as expected. He'd holed up in a former staff lounge; he'd destroyed or removed just about all of the original furniture, lighting, and appliances except the sink. He'd broken the doorway wide enough to fit him comfortably through and amassed a mountain of mattresses to one side of the room. It smelled in here. Of course there was his musk, an odor that hung between a man's natural scent and something more feral, but it was spoiled by the stench of blood. Standing in the middle of the room, it was clear from the scraps of dirty inmate uniforms and rust colored stains over everything that Waylon took his meals in here. I briefly wondered whether he simply consumed people whole leaving no evidence or whether he cleaned.

The beast in question was sitting on the sleeping pallet with his arms resting on his knees, eyeing me with a glazed look of boredom. I wasn't sure how our relationship had progressed to this, but I was almost confident he wouldn't eat or rip me in half anytime soon. In the back of my mind, buried under a mound of reasoning and logic, I realized he was the closest acquaintance I'd had in months. That seed of thought was the driving force for why I'd sought out Waylon today, because I felt like I owed him. I'm not entirely sure why, it should be common decency not to eat or maim other people.

"Why are you here?" he rasped, his words coated in that smoky Cajun accent. I toed a stray knucklebone, arms crossed.

"Was wondering if you wanted that collar off." Well that got his attention.

"You offering?" his eyes narrowed. I ignored his focus, knocking the small bone between my shoes.

"Uh, yes. I mean I'll try, I'm pretty sure I can get it off?" I mumbled, glancing up through my bangs. He remained seated, slowly bringing a massive scaled hand to his collared throat and tugging at the device. He rolled one huge shoulder "don't waste my time." Hesitating a moment, the guy sent mixed signals, I carefully maneuvered over the mattresses to stand in front of him. I was an arm's length away from the collar, trying not to focus on how I was standing between his outstretched limbs. It had been a while since I'd been this close to him, to the degree I could see each individual scale and every odd tooth piercing from his jaw through his lips, and I'd never been this close voluntarily. I mentally shook myself and focused on the shock collar.

I had to reach up to get at the device despite Croc's sitting position. The ring of metal was tight on his skin to the point I couldn't push even my thin digits between scale and collar. It was heavily bolted together, likely rigged to go off should it be removed by brute force. I ran my fingers across the cold surface, noting a bulged section hidden under a screwed in plate. This would be as good as any place to start.

I unzipped my coveralls to my belly, pulling out a screwdriver. The thicker section of the collar was set a bit to the back, which meant I had to pretty much lean against his shoulder and balance on my tiptoes to reach. Ignoring the scales pressing into the fabric of my undershirt, I got the collar open. Great, now if only I could see in.

"Are there any chairs I can stand on in here?" I asked, dropping back on the flats of my feet and looking around. An arm wrapped around the backs of my knees causing me to drop back onto the bandaged forearm as he raised me up, pinning my legs against his chest. I squeaked, falling forward and catching myself against his shoulder, a blush furiously pooling over my face. I refocused on the issue at hand, not on the feeling of his teeth grazing against my hip or the wetness of his breath against my stomach or even the shameless shudder that rolled through me. I peered into the open shock collar.

Tubing, wires, a screen with a set of numbers, it was all very bizarre. One hand clutching onto the collar for stability, I flicked through the wiring. Yup, no idea what any of this does. Poking at the screen it became apparent it was a control panel of sorts complete with lock code of nine digits. It would take too long to safely figure out the password, ripping the collar off manually was out of the question, and with no solid knowledge on wiring I decided the best I could do would be to remove what was giving the hunk of garbage power.

Fingering the wires I eventually found the battery packs and gracelessly ripped them out of their sockets. With the small control screen gone blank I took that as a good sign and continued with the larger bolts on the outside. The entire time I worked Croc's grip tightened, his other hand trailing blunted claws down my spine. Biting my cheek, toes curled, I rushed the last bolt out, the device clicking open and dropping to the floor.

"C-collar's off." I expected to be let down but his grip remained. Feeling anxious I twisted in his arm, tapping his shoulder. He moved, pulling me closer so that my knees were forced apart against his abdomen as his hands shifted to wrap around my back and thigh. His hands were unbelievable, the same hand capable of having a thumb running down my sternum while fingers pressed into my spine painfully, causing me to arch away. I began struggling, pushing my elbows against his chest and twisting my hips hard. Croc snarled viciously in my ear, a moment of ringing deafness followed. He yanked on my thigh, grinding me against him. I whimpered at the sudden friction. Tears pooled in my eyes, I bit my lip against them and buried my face against the scaly hollow of his throat.

"Why?" the word bubbled out wet and sore. Croc continued to circle his clawed digits across my back. A deep rumbling vibrated through his chest into me. His other hand kneaded the skin of my thigh, occasionally trailing painful claws from hip to knee. My fingers scraped against the scales of his chest and neck.

"You can't hide it. I can smell it on you." I trembled at the thickness of his voice. I flushed to the point of pain, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Then you can also smell how scared I am" the words barely made it past my lips but their effect was instant. He dropped me onto the dirty mattresses unceremoniously. I bounced once then got to my feet, retreating across the room.

"Get out." I looked back, eyes still welling up. His face was venomous, but he wouldn't look at me. There was pain there. It was old anger, pain from wounds that had never healed. I hesitated at the doorway. This wasn't his fault. I wanted to tell him everything about my fear of touch, that a real monster was responsible for how I was now. Croc was important to me, for some unknown reason, and I didn't want him to have another excuse for hating me, humans – for hating himself.

I left without saying anything.