Page 8

Then she sighs and slumps her shoulders in defeat. I move along the bars so I’m sitting in front of her again, and grin at her surrender.

“Fine. I was stabbed, okay? A while back. I guess when that dreg shoved me, it re-aggravated it. I didn’t let it heal as well as I should have. There was no time to, considering the circumstances.”

My grin vanishes. “Stabbed?” I repeat, the word sticking in my throat. “When?”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I catch movement.

Cole. The shadows shift as his green eyes move closer, and they lock onto her with an intensity that tells me he’s listening.

Interesting. He’s hardly shown any interest in anything since we’ve been locked up in here.

Damon is probably doing the same right now, though less brooding and more murderous.

I don’t think I’m going to be able to have a proper conversation with golden girl here for a while.

Regardless, all three of us are now hanging onto her every word.

Zoey leans her head back against the wall, oblivious to them.

She shifts so her brushed arm is resting along the bars beside me, close enough to touch.

She gazes up at the ceiling as if she can find answers in the cracks and peeling paint.

“When my colony fell, one of the dregs got me before he died. It’s fine. A friend took care of me.”

I let out a low curse. “Jesus, Zoey.”

She says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s only another day in this fucked up world.

I rest my arm against the bars and keep my voice light, even as something sharp twists in my chest. “And you’re still running around like that?”

“You say that like I have a choice in the matter,” she replies, her voice tight. “I didn’t then, and I don’t now. ”

“What happened to your colony?” Damon asks. I’m glad he’s keeping his murderous tendencies at bay.

Zoey hesitates for a long moment, then her voice trembles when she speaks before becoming more controlled, too controlled. Like she’s forcing it to stay even. “A dreg named Nathan.”

My stomach plummets at that name.

She keeps going, oblivious to the way my entire body locks up.

“He came out of nowhere, charming and charismatic. We let him into our colony, gave him shelter and food. He used my best friend and nearly destroyed her.” Her fingers curl against her knee.

“My people let him in. They believed his lies. Then he turned on us. Twice. The first time, he took everything. The second time?” Her voice shakes.

“He burned the colony to the ground. Not everyone made it out.”

The weight of her words settles like ashes around us. My pulse pounds against my skull. Nathan. A dreg. The name hits me like a punch to the gut. I know that name. I know that man. And…fuck.

Memories are dredged up that I’ve tried so hard to bury. Things I’ve been trying to atone for. Ghosts coming back to haunt me. It was her.

This isn’t just some random nightmare from her past. It’s ours, too.

Zoey’s voice wavers when she speaks again. “He…he killed so many people. My friends. My neighbors. He killed them all, and he did it with laughter.”

I force a laugh, though it’s hollow and humorless. It sounds foreign even to my own ears. “Well, if we ever meet this Nathan guy, I’ll make sure he regrets it.”

She rolls her head, so she’s looking at me with an unreadable expression. “Don’t bother.”

I shift and press my shoulder against the wall beside me. “Why not? All dregs are the same, aren’t they? They think they’re untouchable, but they’re not, and I’d love to prove it.”

The sound of metal hitting metal echoes through the silence, and I know Damon is gripping his bars with his ring hand, listening and hanging onto every word. I can feel his judgment toward me, but that’s not something to touch on right now.

“When exactly did this happen, Zoey?” I ask, my mouth too dry.

“About a month or so ago. The cut was deep, but not as deep as my stubbornness.” A small smirk tugs at her lips.

“That’s something I can believe. You, I have a scar too. It was also given to me by an awful person.” I hold my hands out through the bars.

Her touch is feather light when she runs her fingertips along the raised skin. “What happened?”

“A cruel man wanted to fight. I didn’t want to. So, of course, I’m the one who wound up with the scar.” I consider telling her more of the story, but I can’t get the words to come out. This isn’t the time. Maybe later.

She tilts her head toward me and amusement flickers across her face. For a moment, I think she can see me. Until she asks her next question. “What do you look like, Benjamin?”

I freeze.

Then blink.

“Benjamin?” I laugh, trying to shake the unnerving feeling curling in my stomach. “No one’s called me that in…well, ever.”

“I call you that all the time when you do something stupid,” Damon says. So helpful, that one.

“Oh? Sounds like it’s story time,” Zoey teases.

“First of all, it doesn’t sound as good coming from your mouth, Damon, as it does from Zoey’s.

” I think I see her blush, but it could be the dim lighting.

“Second of all, nope. Don’t think so.” I shoot her a smirk and wish she could see it.

“Now, not that I’m trying to avoid the subject or anything, but is there any way you’re willing to show me that cut of yours? ”

She thinks it over for a moment, then she shrugs. “Sure.”

I turn toward her as she lifts her shirt to expose the angry red scar stretched across her ribs, punctuated by three audible gasps. I reach out before I can stop myself and run the tip of my finger along the raised tissues.

The scar feels worse than it looks, which isn’t reassuring. It’s a sign of hurried healing and not enough rest. “Looks like it might’ve gotten aggravated when that dreg tossed you around,” I murmur. “Wasn’t bothering you before that?”

She shakes her head. “Not really.”

“You let us know if it gets worse.”

She chokes on a laugh. “What are you going to do about it if it does?”

“I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure something out.”

“Thought you guys gave up.”

My hand falls to her knee and rests there.

“Maybe all we needed was a little motivation.” I take her hand and smooth it down my hair.

“Strawberry blond hair that’s overgrown now from my vacation to the shadows.

” I run her fingers down my face. “Hazel eyes, and devilishly good looks. Not as pretty as you, of course.”

She smiles and lifts her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, but something glints in the light. A fleck of red. My hand shoots up to grab her wrist. “What?—”

I flip her hand over to reveal a smear of blood across her palm. “Zoey,“ I growl out.

“Hey, I thought Damon was the growly one.”

“What’s happening?” Damon demands.

“Zoey,” I repeat.

She squints down at her hand. “Oh. Must be from the broken glass.” She brings her hand closer to her face with a frown. “I think there might be a piece stuck in there. Crap. We don’t have anything to pull it out with.”

“Yes, we do.” I pull her hand through the bars and wrap my lips around the small red spot on her palm. I can’t see it, being in the darkness and all, but I’ve gotten pretty good with touch.

I feel her sharp inhale and the way her muscles tense, so I place a kiss first to calm her. Then, using my tongue, I press against the edges of the wound and coaxing the tiny shard loose. I wince at the sharp sting on my tongue, then spit it out into my hand. It’s smaller than I thought.

“Got it.” I place a gentle kiss against the tiny wound on her palm.

Her breath catches, and she hesitates. Then she pulls her hand back through. “Thank you, Benjamin.”

I grin. “Benjamin, huh? What did I do wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Her voice is quiet and soft, and I even see a faint smile playing on her lips. “You did everything right.”

I drag my tongue across my bottom lip, tasting iron. “Say it again.”

“Benjamin.”

I lean forward to rest my head against the bars, wishing more than anything that she could see me. Wondering if her eyes would linger on me like mine do on her. If her gaze would be drawn to my every movement like mine is to hers.

For now, though, I’ll settle for watching her like a madman, and listening to the way my name sounds on her lips. “I like it.”