“I don’t think so. Someone’s spilling secrets. I wish I knew who. I’d like to shake the man’s hand.”
If Jayden suspected we had a spy, then maybe the Hunters suspected it too. Worry squirmed inside me. “If he has secrets to spill, that means he’s a Hunter. You want to shake his hand?”
“A Hunter traitor? Hell yeah, I do.” He yawned. “You mind if I sleep in here? Ryan’s in my quarters tonight, and he snores.”
I was lucky that no one had taken my private quarters from me after my parents died. It was only fair to share with him. “Sure,” I said, but I stayed awake long after he’d fallen asleep, contemplating my situation and general lack of common sense. By the time I drifted off, I was convinced it had been a mere glitch.
I didn’t want Lucas Scott.
I didn’t.
Did I?
14
Proximity Game
The first line of defense against an opponent with a knife is to avoid close contact.
—U.S. ARMY FIELD MANUAL
Proximity. Dangerous curiosity. Stupidity.
These were the reasons I woke at night, Lucas Scott’s face in my mind.
It had nothing to do with the lethal glint in his eye when he said I belonged to him.
…Right?
Thoughts of him consumed me, and I wanted to go back to the beginning, when I’d been wary and suspicious and incessantly worried he might rape me.
How laughable.
I could no longer imagine any situation in which Lucas would harm me. He spent such an inordinate amount of time wanting me protected that I’d come to equate him with safety.
Lucas Scott, my safe harbor. I was fucking insane.
Questions and arguments fought with each other in my head, and I retreated to my imaginary forest to escape it all.
The next week, pretending I’d never gotten off with Lucas at the forefront of my mind was easier than I’d anticipated. He threw a hairbrush at my face; a few wavy black strands caught between the bristles. My eyes flicked up toward him. “A hairbrush? Really?”
His brow lifted. “Today, you’re going to learn how to kill people with knives.”
“I didn’t realize stabbing someone was difficult.”
“The difficult part isstaying alive. Knife play is a proximity game.”
I held up the hairbrush. “Is this supposed to be my knife?”
He pressed his lips together, and I suspected a suppressed smile hid somewhere in there. “It’s for your protection. I had a dagger for you, but imagined you falling on top of your own knife.”
I shot him a nasty scowl and kicked off my sandals. “Thinking of me when I’m not around, Lucas?”
You’re one to talk.
He moved into a defensive position, eyes twinkling. “Only a little. Come at me.”
I stabbed inexpertly with my hairbrush. He slammed his palm hard onto my wrist. The hairbrush fell from my grip. I froze, surprised, then backhanded his shoulder before retrieving it.
