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The new man looks on with a laughing smile that could end a war with its sweetness. Blonde and pale, his face is thin with a natural blush over his cheekbones. The grin falls right off his face when he registers my presence. “What the fuck is she doing in there?”

I like him already.

Eli’s forehead creases. “What do you mean?”

“Damn, Eli. It’s four feet across.”

Eli sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You really think she would still be here if I left her wandering around?”

“You could have locked her in your bedroom. Or even the bathroom.” He shoves the chair aside, walks up to the cell and peers at me. His eyes are the same cerulean blue as the jumpsuit that hangs loose on his lanky frame, the first I’ve seen of that color.

“I’m Milo, the asshole’s friend.” He shuffles his feet and rubs his hands together. “You look so normal. It’s wild.”

I stare. What does that mean? We’re the same.

His bright eyes move to the buckets, then the broken stool. He bites his lower lip, disappears down the hallway and returns carrying a puffy blanket. He shoves it through the cell bars, tucking the black bunches through bit by bit.

“What are you doing?” Eli snaps. “That’s mine. She’s going to get her smell all over it.”

Milo pushes the final corner of the blanket through. “You’ll get over it. It’s cold here for a Hollow.”

“She’s fine, Milo. She likes it.”

Milo lightly kicks Eli’s boot. “Be nice. She’s a woman.”

“It’s only fair that I have something of yours,” I say. “You stole my underwear.”

“He what?” Milo asks, smacking his forehead. Sypher looks on in mild shock, rubbing his cropped beard.

Eli puts a hand to the outside of a lumpy pocket. “I do as I fucking please. If I want your panties, they’re mine.”

“And how many times have you gotten yourself off with them?” I taunt.

“Sixteen.”

Oh, the untethered confidence of this man. I can’t help but admire it, even under the circumstances.

Silence hangs heavy around us. Milo throws his hands up. “She wasn’t actually asking, Eli. No one wants to know that.”

My mouth catches up with my thoughts. “In that room with me too? While I slept?” Why am I imagining it?

He lifts one shoulder, indifferent. “You could have helped.”

“Stop traumatizing her.” Milo directs his smile at me. “I have sisters.”

Don’t these people hate Hollows?

“You don’t want me dead?” I ask Milo, eyeing the blanket to avoid Eli’s stare, but I’m not quite able to get the image of him out of my mind…sitting against the door, hand pumping furiously, fabric sliding up and down his length, the stifled moans and groans, the spill ontomyunderwear—all only feet away in the dark, cold room while he watches me sleep.

My mind is a fucking problem.

“Not every Vaile who survives the misery and torture of growing up in Sonnet turns into a brute. Justalmosteveryone.Locking you up is enough.” Milo tosses himself down onto the couch next to Eli. “Plus, I’d do anything to annoy this guy.”

Eli leans back again and deepens his slouch. Sypher sits down next to him, scooting side to side, as though he can’t decide how close to get. The three men look at me, so I pick up the blanket and retreat to the corner. It smells like Eli, like cloves and wood and rain.

“You’ve taken your Hollow obsession a little far, don’t you think?” Milo says to Eli, one foot tapping the stone floor. “You can’t take the Centress’ prisoner as your own.”

Eli cracks his knuckles, staring at me as he answers Milo. “She isnotthe Centress’ prisoner.”