replied without a single beat of hesitation.
“Very well. As I said, you will die with the rest.”
“Blah, blah, blah. I know.” Vibrations at her left caused her gaze to dart in that direction.
“—kill her, kill her, kill her,” Rainbow chanted as he jumped up and down in his cage.
Another vibration at her right. Her gaze returned to the newcomer . . . whatever his name was. He had decided to use her distraction to his advantage, was reaching through the bars, trying to contort his body to gain enough length to grab her.
She stumbled backward, out of reach. Frustrated, he snapped those saber teeth at her—sweet mercy, they grew before her eyes and were even longer thanbefore!—his features radiating a dark rage she’d seen one too many times today.
Trembling, she barked, “I was trying to make your day better, and you decided to murder me for it? Perhaps you deserve to be in that cage, eh?” and stomped away to finish her chores.
Six
But examine everything carefully, and hold fast to that which is good.
—1 THESSALONIANS 5:21
S OLO WATCHED AS THE female the captives called Vika—a young girl the owner of the circus had called “my heart”—sedated and bathed the rest of the otherworlders. She still labored over the last, the Cortaz, leaving only Solo.
Her touch was always tentative, shaky, and gentle, and he was highly curious to know if she would treat him with the same deference, considering all the threats he’d made. A curiosity he despised. He shouldn’t care one way or the other. To bathe him, she would have to tranquilize him, and the thought of dropping like a bear in the wild was utterly humiliating. Besides, if he slept through the entire episode, the sickening curiosity would never be assuaged.
And yet, he still liked the idea of having her hands on him.
Stupid . He needed to be smarter where she was concerned.
Already he’d made two grievous mistakes. The first? Attraction. Men forgot their purpose when they lustedafter a woman. The second? He’d experienced a measure of pity for her. Because, here she was, a beautiful human girl surely clothed in the skin of God’s most treasured angel, yet she had a bruise the size of a fist on her face. The size of Jecis’s fist, to be exact.
Solo had come to the conclusion that Jecis was forcing her to work for him and that, if Solo could only convince her to trust him, he could flee with her. Her—his very own female, according to X. He’d truly thought he would have a chance to convince her, too. If she were being beaten, she would crave some sort of protection. Any protection, even from a monster. Protection he would have vowed to give. But when he’d offered to help her, she hadn’t bothered to reply.
After that, frustration had become a living force inside him, and out had come the death threats. Rather than cowering, as an abused female would have done, she had taunted him with her disregard.
That’s when the truth had settled deep. She was cold and cruel, without a heart, and he would have to take her down with everyone else. And he was totally okay with that, he told himself. He had always lived by three little words, the strongest words in creation: whatever proved necessary .
In fact, if ripping the door from his cage was a problem, he would remove her thumb—perhaps the only key to the locks—and he would do it with a slash of his claws or a swipe of his teeth. She would scream and she would cry, but nothing she said or did would stop him. She did not deserve Solo’s compassion and, to his mother’s shame, she would not receive it.
X had screwed up royally. Vika was to be Solo’s woman? Hardly. Either she liked to crawl into bed with Jecis Lukas or she had sprung from his loins. Either way, she deserved what she got.
So what if she had exhibited moments of kindness?
So what if her expressive face had revealed hurt, courage, and grim resolve when peering over at Solo, and all three emotions had caused his
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