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I rubbed my arms. Asher’s eyes dipped to the action.

“If you saw an Infernarus killing a human, you would do the same,” I said. “It’s instinct.”

His jaw clenched, and the way his body straightened gave off the impression that he was being slowly suffocated from the inside out. Something about what I said... like striking a blow.

“Youhaveseen it happen,” I said. “And did you save the human?”

“If you want to survive the night,” he said, “drop the subject.”

I cocked my head. “How depraved you must think we are,” I said, studying him through the bars.

“Your kindaredepraved.” He said it with such conviction. I wasn’t going to change his mind. Not that I was intending to, but it bothered me how very adamantly he believed his own words.

I studied him a little more. His hair was mussed, as though he’d been running his fingers through it over and over again. And I found I enjoyed his eyes on me, regardless of—or maybe because of—how dangerous he was.

An intense shiver racked my body. My arms tightened their hold around my legs. I was bleeding heat.

Asher’s eyes fell on my shaking form. Almost angrily he stood, the chair scraping as he did so. He stalked to the couch, where a blanket lay haphazardly over the back of it.

Snatching it up, he said, “Get to the corner of the cell.”

For once, I decided not to bait him. I was cold, he had a blanket.

I stretched out my stiffened legs and made my way to the back of the cell, near that abominable metal toilet. I wanted to cry out; exposing this much of my flesh to the subterranean air worsened the shakes running through my body.

Asher strode back to the cell. “Stay put, demon—”

“Lana.”

“—You so much as twitch,” he continued, “this thing’s going back on the couch.”

I gave him an aghast look. My entire body was trembling. Even my teeth were clicking. He’d primed me for disappointment.

“I didn’t mean that literally,” he said, and I swear I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “You’ll know when I’m trying to torment you.”

He lifted his brows in an unspoken warning for me to stay put, and slowly threaded his hand through the bars, stuffing the blanket through. It crossed my mind to grab him and scour his arms with my nails until blood freely flowed. I locked that particular fantasy away and held my ground. Only once Asher had dropped the blanket and sat back down did I come forward and pick it up.

“Thank you,” I said softly. The words tasted bitter. Thanking this man who so gleefully killed my comrades.

His mouth thinned and one of his legs began to bounce. He wasn’t dealing with it any better. I bet he already regretted the small kindness.

I wrapped the small blanket around my body.

It carried a distinctive scent, something foreign yet familiar. It smelled like Asher, I realized.

It didn’t stop me from pulling it close. I untucked my hair, letting it drift around me.

Asher’s eyes moved to it.

I touched it self-consciously, a tendril of smoke sliding through my fingers.

He blinked a few times, then I saw him grimace.

The expression had my hands tightening on the blanket. It was one thing to hate the heart, and I hated his heart, but it was another to hate the shell. That was always uncalled for.

I sat down on the cot and crossed my legs. “You still haven’t killed me, and now you’ve given me a blanket.” Back to taunting.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said.