defense she’d wrapped around her vulnerable heart.
Halting close to the bars of her cell, the stranger folded his arms over his chest and regarded her with a mocking smile. “Did you learn such language from your mother?”
The edge of disdain in his voice effectively squashed her unwelcome fascination. Jerk. What right did he have to look at her as if she were something he scraped off the bottom of his moccasin?
“My mother was too busy trying to kill me to teach me anything beyond how to run. Really, really fast,” she mocked in return, moving forward to grasp the bars. As if her knees weren’t trembling and her heart wasn’t slamming against her ribs. “And, oh yeah, never to trust anyone. Something I was stupid enough to forget.”
The astonishing eyes widened, as if she’d truly managed to surprise him.
“Your mother tried to kill you?”
She shrugged. Families. What’cha gonna do?
“Why was I drugged and thrown in the dungeons?” she demanded. “I came here in good faith.”
“We have only your word on that.” He planted his hands on his hips, his jacket shifting to reveal the dagger attached to his belt and the gun holstered at his side.
Holy crap. He had enough firepower to bring down a rabid troll. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or horrified. In the end she was just pissed off.
“And a witch’s word can’t be trusted?” she snapped.
“You admitted you worshipped the Dark Lord,” he said without apology. “That hardly encourages faith in your moral compass.”
“Moral compass? Are you kidding me?” She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. “You’re a vampire.”
“So?”
“You’re the last one who should be judging my morals.” A slow smile curved his lips and Sally’s fingers tightened on the bars. If he’d been handsome when all haughty and disdainful, he was outrageously gorgeous when he smiled.
“Fair enough.”
Concentrate, Sally. This beast is the enemy. No matter how beautiful a beast he might be.
“Then let me out,” she challenged him.
“It’s not my call.”
“This is bullshit.” She glared between the bars. “Complete and utter bullshit.”
“Are you hungry?”
She blinked, taken off guard by the abrupt question. “What?”
“You’ve been out for forty-eight hours; do you need food?”
“Forty-eight hours?” she breathed in shock. Dammit. She’d thought she’d been out an hour, maybe two. “What did you give me?”
“A drug to make you sleep.” He shrugged. “It’s harmless to humans.”
Fury raced through her at the risk the leeches had taken with her life. The drug might very well have been safe for humans, but she wasn’t entirely human.
Not that she was going to admit as much. It was a secret she intended to take to her grave.
“Have you ever heard of allergic reactions?” she instead growled. “You could have killed me.”
His bored expression revealed his supreme indifference to whether she lived or died.
Yeah. Über-jerk.
“Do you want food or not?”
She wanted to tell him to shove his offer up his ass. Thankfully she wasn’t stubborn enough to cut off her nose to spite her face. She needed to keep up her energy if she was going to find a way out of the dungeons.
And fuel if she was going to risk using her secret mojo.
“I’m starving.”
“I suppose you nibble lettuce like most females?”
“A double bacon cheeseburger with loaded potato skins and a chocolate shake,” she ordered. “Oh, and one of those deep-fried apple pies.”
He snorted. “Is that all?”
“You can throw in a few Buffalo wings with blue cheese dipping sauce.”
His gaze briefly lowered to her tiny frame, which barely weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. For a fleeting second his gaze lingered and his eyes flared, as if he’d just been hit by an unpleasant sensation. Then, with an obvious effort, he was shaking off his strange reaction.
“Your funeral,” he muttered.
Sally rolled her eyes. “I hang around with deranged curs and megalomaniac vampires, not to mention evil deities; I doubt it’s cholesterol that’s going to put me in my grave.”
Again that glorious indifference to her expected life span. “It will be at least half an hour. The chef here only cooks vegetarian, so they’ll have to order out.”
“Vegetarian?” She blinked, wondering if it was some sort of inside joke. “I thought the Anasso’s mate was a pure-blooded Were?”
“She is.”
“And she . . .” Sally gave a shake of her head. “Never mind. I’ve clearly stumbled into a madhouse.”
“That about sums it up,” he said, so low that she barely caught the words.
She frowned. “If that’s how you feel, then why are you here?” “Because my king commands it.”
Hmmm. A stewing