“You don’t believe me?”
“I’m sure their enjoyment has nothing to do with the fact that saying otherwise might mean going hungry. I bet they tell you that you’re the best they’ve ever had.” Every word I spoke was a risk I couldn’t afford. I was injured, exhausted, and entirely at their mercy in the middle of nowhere.
His eyes narrowed, and he scowled at me. “You make it sound like I’m taking advantage of them.”
I’d made him angry, and I couldn’t find it in myself to care. “Aren’t you?”
“No, Princess. It’s a mutually beneficial exchange.”
“When one person has all the power, and the other has none, it’s exploitation—” A particularly hard clop of my horse’s hooves sent a spike of agony through my back, cutting off my words. I gritted my teeth, waiting for the wave to pass before continuing. “—not an exchange.”
“I could just take what I want.”
“Where I’m from, they call that rape.”
“Princess, you’re making me sound like I’m the bad guy. I’m not.”
“Of course not. You’re just a man who uses his position of power to trade food for sex from hungry women. Practically a saint, really.”
“You’re wrong!” Flynn was loud enough that my horse startled, and Pierce and Grayson looked over their shoulders, Grayson with a quizzical lift to his brows. “A woman who’s with me gets a good meal and a night of pleasure. There’s no harm in that.”
“Hmph.” I resumed staring at the treetops.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Not even a little. You want transactional sex? Fine. But don’t make yourself out to be a hero. If a girl is hungry, you should give her a meal, not trade on her desperation.”
“That’s not what I do!”
“You participate in a system designed to grind women beneath your heels.” My voice cracked slightly. The combination of pain, poor sleep, and the effort of staying mounted was taking its toll. I cleared my throat and continued with less force than I’d intended, “A woman shouldn’t have to fuck you to eat.”
“It’s not like that. They want to be with me.”
“If you say so.” My tone was airy. Dismissive.
Flynn’s teeth ground together loud enough for me to hear.
“Everyone looks out for themselves. If you believe differently, you’re naive.”
The wise thing would be to smile and deflect. Change the subject. Ask about the trees or the weather—anything but challenge his worldview. But watching him rationalize exploitation as kindness made bile rise in my throat. “Am I? My grandmother has spent her life helping people without expecting anything in return.”
“And what did it get her? A rundown building in Grimswood.”
“The love and respect of those whose lives she’s touched.” My horse stumbled slightly, and I had to grip the saddle horn to keep from sliding off.
Only Flynn’s quick reaction—a steadying hand on my elbow—kept me from tumbling to the ground. “Careful, Princess.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, conveniently ignoring the unwelcome tingle on my skin from Flynn’s steadying touch.
“Don’t mention it. Tell me, does love or respect put food on your grandmother’s table?”
Magic put food on the table. “What about you and your friends?”
“My brothers,” he corrected. “What about us?”
“You have each other’s backs.”
“Obviously.”
