"This is fucked," I say under my breath.
"I'm aware." She looks down at her hands, folded neatly on the table. "But I'm doing it anyway."
Servants enter with food, an array of dishes that smell incredible. They serve us both and leave quickly, clearly trained to be invisible. The silence stretches as we sit there with full plates, neither of us eating.
"I need to understand," I finally say. "What is this? What are you doing?"
Primsyn picks up her fork, studying it like it holds the answers to the universe. "I don't know," she admits. "I'm breaking my own rules. Going against everything logical. And I can't seem to stop myself."
"Then let me go."
Her eyes snap to mine. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because I need you." The words are raw. "Not just for feeding. I need...this. You. Whatever this is between us."
My heart is pounding. "There's nothing between us. You're my captor. I'm your prisoner."
"Is that really all we are?" She leans forward, her silver eyes intense. "Then why did you hold me last night? Why didn't you push me away?"
"I..." I don't have an answer. I can't find the words to explain something I don't understand myself.
"Exactly." She sits back with a sad smile on her lips. "We're both lying to ourselves, Oliver. Both pretending this is simple when it's anything but."
I want to argue. Want to deny it. But sitting here across from her, seeing the vulnerability she's trying so hard to hide, I can't.
Because she's right. And that terrifies me more than anything else.
CHAPTER SIX
PRIMSYN
The meal passes in strange, tense silence punctuated by awkward attempts at conversation. I ask about his life before capture, and he gives short, clipped answers that reveal little. He was a hunter. He lived alone. He had no family left.
Each answer feels like a tiny victory, even if they're barely more than fragments.
"Did you always live in the wild?" I ask, cutting into the roasted vegetables on my plate.
"For the last few years. Before that, I lived in a settlement. A small group of humans trying to stay hidden." He pauses, his jaw tightening. "Lactari patrols found them about three years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?" His eyes meet mine, hard and challenging. "Or are you just saying what you think you should?"
I set my fork down, considering my answer. "Both, perhaps. I'm sorry for your loss. But I'm also aware my apology changes nothing. Doesn't bring them back. Doesn't undo what was done."
"At least you're right about that." He takes a drink of water, his throat working. "Most Lactari I've seen don't even pretend to care."
"I'm not most Lactari."
"No." His gaze travels over my face, assessing. "You're not. I can't figure you out. One minute you're all ice and control, telling me I'm property. The next, you're inviting me to lunch like we're...something."
"Maybe I don't know what we are anymore." The admission escapes before I can stop it.
Oliver leans back in his chair, studying me with those dark eyes that see too much. "You're scared."
"Excuse me?"
