“Other than a murderer?” The candle’s flame burned into my vision, and I could have kicked myself. Why did my mouth always shoot off before my mind could consider the words?
“Yeah,” he said, unfazed. “Other than that.”
It hurt to do it, but I forced myself to look at him. “Lucas Scott. Killer extraordinaire.”
“Cute.” His smile raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. “You’ve never taken a human life?”
“Anyone I killed deserved it.”
His brow lifted. “You sure? What made them so unworthy of life?”
“They were Hunters.”
“And that warrants a death sentence? Without due process? Sounds familiar.”
I frowned at him, bristling. “I didn’t come here to argue the morals of the war with you.”
“No, but your being here proves your side has just as few morals as mine.”
“Excuse me?” I gripped my hips. Was this asshole mocking me?
His gaze dropped to my hands, and his smile widened. “Does Theodore Harrison whore out all his women? Or are you just special?”
“I amnota whore!”
He let out a scornful snort. “The truth getting under your skin a little,Sophia?”
Why did he say my name like that? Like it was an insult. Or a lie. Glaring, I snapped my mouth shut.
Because I hated that he was right. I hated that I’d been the one chosen. I hated that I was broken enough to do it.
He dug into the psychological wound with rough, dirty fingers. “A whore for my intel. That was the deal, right? One who wouldn’t need her legs pried open like the rest of you Defiants.”
Wow, there it was. The truth of what this was. I’d suspected, of course, but having him say it was just…
His embittered laughter slithered around me. “And the hypocrite was only too happy to oblige.”
Fear strangled me, debilitated me. Sweat bloomed on my palms and beneath my arms. My heartbeat pounded in my throat and temples.
Why had I agreed to this? Why had Theoletme agree to this? Did he care about me at all?
But it didn’t matter. Because I was here, and I was doing this. No turning back now.
Resigned, I took a deep breath and dove headfirst into my fate. “You won’t have to pry.”
He stiffened. “Aproudwhore. How charming.”
Fuck off.
I strode toward the bedroom, trying to slink past him and throw myself on the bed, to show him I wasn’t afraid even though I was mind-numbingly terrified. As I reached the doorway, however, he grabbed my arm, holding me in place. I expected him to be cold, like his icy heart might affect his core temperature, but his hand was hot on my skin, burning an invisible brand there.
Gross, gross, gross.
Let me go!
His voice lowered. “Ah, ah. As charming as you are, I’m not interested. Something Harrison would have known if he’d bothered to ask.”
I froze and stared at his face, marred by faint tracings of the war. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, and the beginnings of a permanent line between his eyebrows. Silvery scars crisscrossed his forehead and one cheek. His body was long and lean and sharp. No indecision darkened his eyes, no trace of regret or shame, and the cold fury in them—or maybe the darkness—hid their color.
