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The drive to my apartment passes in a blur of streetlights and Lucy's concerned glances. I like being around her even though I know I should push her away. She thinks I’m like the Keans. Or she will when she learns the truth. Unless… maybe if she gets to know me, she’ll see I’m not a fucking sociopath. Maybe she’ll accept me, Flint Ifrinn.

“I can’t believe you went up against that giant,” she says as she helps me into my apartment.

“I beat him.”

“Barely.” She shakes her head as she guides me to my room. “I suppose it was impressive, for a guy who got his face rearranged."

"You should see the other guy." I wince as she deposits me on the bed. "Though I have to admit, this isn't how I imagined getting you back to my place."

"You should at least let me clean that cut before I go. You’ll also need a boat load of pain reliever, I imagine.” She exits my room, and I immediately miss her. My sappy feelings are a clue that I’ve had my brain knocked around a bit and am loopy.

She returns, handing me pills and a glass of water. “I don’t understand why grown men want to beat each other to a pulp for sport.”

“We’ve never evolved from our baser instincts. Sex and violence.”

“Hmm.” She purses her lips as she tends to my cut. “It’s a wonder any of you make it to thirty.”

“I’ve got a few years left.”

She’s sitting on my bed, so close to me, and all I can think about is pulling her close. It will hurt like hell, but I don’t care. I have to touch her.

“Well, I think that’s it.” She shakes her head again. “Rest up.” She starts to stand, but I take her hand.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

"Or you could stay.” It’s unsettling just how badly I need her to stay. I give her what I hope is a charming smile. “I might have a head injury. You should stay in case I pass out and choke on my own blood or something."

"That's a bit excessive." But she doesn’t pull away.

"I'm just saying, as a responsible citizen, you wouldn't want that on your conscience. Plus, I make excellent pancakes."

Her brows narrow.

“For breakfast,” I say, realizing she’s not following my thought. “I’ll repay you tomorrow with my most excellent pancakes.”

"You're impossible." She rolls her eyes. "And manipulative. I happen to love pancakes."

"I prefer strategically persuasive." I tug her down next to me even as my body feels like it’s on fire. "Is it working?"

"Maybe I'm just worried you'll try to go another round with that beast if I leave you alone."

"Nah." I turn to face her, ignoring the protest from my ribs. "Got something better to focus on now."

Her breath catches as I lean in. For a moment, we're suspended in that space between intention and action. Then her lips meet mine, soft and uncertain at first, before melting into something deeper. She tastes sweet and pure, and I forget about my aching body, everything except the way she sighs against my mouth.

When we break apart, her cheeks flush pink. "That was…"

"Strategic?" I suggest.

"Unexpected," she corrects, but her smile tells a different story.

“How about this?” I lean in again, this time taking the kiss deeper, hotter. The pleasure from it offsets the pain. There's something intoxicating about the way she responds, something that makes me forget why this is such a terrible idea. Not just because I’m battered and bruised, but because I’m lying to her. Because I know she’d never let the real me anywhere near her. Because I know that this can only end badly. The truth will destroy whatever this is between us. Unless I can convince her that I’m not all bad.

15

LUCY