Chapter 3 War Whore #2
My insides contracted at the sight of him, and every inch of my skin turned clammy as the realization occurred that he was young.
So much younger than he looked on TV. He couldn’t be but a handful of years older than me, and yet a deadly air of danger and ruthlessness practically dripped from his pores.
Long, thin fingers curled around his biceps the same way I imagined they twined around throats.
Scars across his skin demonstrated his familiarity with violence, his will to survive.
Mouth turned down into a frown, expression wintry and closed, Lucas Scott radiated don’t-fuck-with-me vibes in a steady, petrifying rhythm.
The TV screen didn’t do him justice. This man wasn’t human. The cold, almost robotic calculation on his face proved it. He was nothing but a killer.
Terror snaked its way through me, razor sharp. My heart sped, and instinct compelled me to search his body for easily accessible weapons.
He had none.
No holsters, no knives. But I wasn’t safe. He needed no weapon to take my life. He was a weapon in the form of a man.
I forced my suddenly dry mouth to open. “I’m not a whore.”
Seriously? Why was that the thing that came out of my mouth?
His attention slipped down my body before returning to my eyes.
Ew.
Did he just check me out? Perusing the goods, or something? What a monster.
“They sold you to me for information,” he said. “Would you prefer the term slave?”
Oh, fuck you, Lucas Scott.
Hackles raised, I put a bone-chilling level of frost into my voice. “My name’s Sophia. That’s the term I’d prefer.”
A vicious emotion I couldn’t identify flickered in his eyes, there and gone again, and my body stiffened. Whoa. The danger pouring from him ratcheted upward. I fought the urge to back away.
The door was still open beside me. Could I outrun him?
I took in his long legs with a grimace.
Probably not.
“Pleased to meet you, Sophia.” He said my name as if it were a joke, his lip lifting in a sneer. “Before we agree to this, let’s discuss this arrangement.”
“O-okay.” I wasn’t aware I still had a choice, but now that he presented it that way, I wondered…could I say no?
“We’ll meet every Thursday at seven.”
I nodded.
“Everything said here will be reported directly to Theodore Harrison. No one else. Understood?”
Well, duh. Who else would I report to? “Yeah, got it.”
His eyes turned calculating. “From this point forward, you are my messenger, which means this takes priority over everything else. Unless you’re serious, I won’t give you anything.”
I pinched the fabric of my pants to keep my hands from shaking. “What do you want in exchange?”
His voice went feral—dark and violent and terrifying. “I’d like to escort the NAO straight to hell.”
My eyebrows rose. Okay, then. “And what do you want from me?” I whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Compliance.”
My skin went cold. Compliance could encompass so many things. In this transactional exchange, I wanted to understand exactly what payment he’d exact. Lucas Scott, however, didn’t appear to want to elaborate further. I would comply with his wishes, or he’d…what?
Return me to my people?
Force my agreement?
Kill me?
“So you agree?” he asked.
It took every ounce of strength I possessed to dip my head in a nod.
“I’ll have your word, please?”
Please?
What…was…that?
Was Lucas Scott a polite killer? A fucking psychopath?
I placed a hand over my heart, more an attempt to guard it from hidden weapons than to show my dedication.
“You have my word.” I tried not to give myself a moment to second-guess, but he said nothing, so I filled the quiet.
“I’ll do as you ask, as long as you don’t interfere with any efforts to bring the NAO down. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
He stared at me without blinking, the long silence making me squirm, making my heart pound, making my thoughts go wild. Had I said something wrong?
It went on so long, I had to glance away. My attention fell on the lit candle, the only light in the room.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked after a while.
“Other than a murderer?” The candle’s flame burned into my vision, and I could have kicked myself. Why did my mouth always shoot off before my mind could consider the words?
“Yeah,” he said, unfazed. “Other than that.”
It hurt to do it, but I forced myself to look at him. “Lucas Scott. Killer extraordinaire.”
“Cute.” His smile raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. “You’ve never taken a human life?”
“Anyone I killed deserved it.”
His brow lifted. “You sure? What made them so unworthy of life?”
“They were Hunters.”
“And that warrants a death sentence? Without due process? Sounds familiar.”
I frowned at him, bristling. “I didn’t come here to argue the morals of the war with you.”
“No, but your being here proves your side has just as few morals as mine.”
“Excuse me?” I gripped my hips. Was this asshole mocking me?
His gaze dropped to my hands, and his smile widened. “Does Theodore Harrison whore out all his women? Or are you just special?”
“I am not a whore!”
He let out a scornful snort. “The truth getting under your skin a little, Sophia?”
Why did he say my name like that? Like it was an insult. Or a lie. Glaring, I snapped my mouth shut.
Because I hated that he was right. I hated that I’d been the one chosen. I hated that I was broken enough to do it.
He dug into the psychological wound with rough, dirty fingers. “A whore for my intel. That was the deal, right? One who wouldn’t need her legs pried open like the rest of you Defiants.”
Wow, there it was. The truth of what this was. I’d suspected, of course, but having him say it was just…
His embittered laughter slithered around me. “And the hypocrite was only too happy to oblige.”
Fear strangled me, debilitated me. Sweat bloomed on my palms and beneath my arms. My heartbeat pounded in my throat and temples.
Why had I agreed to this? Why had Theo let me agree to this? Did he care about me at all?
But it didn’t matter. Because I was here, and I was doing this. No turning back now.
Resigned, I took a deep breath and dove headfirst into my fate. “You won’t have to pry.”
He stiffened. “A proud whore. How charming.”
Fuck off.
I strode toward the bedroom, trying to slink past him and throw myself on the bed, to show him I wasn’t afraid even though I was mind-numbingly terrified.
As I reached the doorway, however, he grabbed my arm, holding me in place.
I expected him to be cold, like his icy heart might affect his core temperature, but his hand was hot on my skin, burning an invisible brand there.
Gross, gross, gross.
Let me go!
His voice lowered. “Ah, ah. As charming as you are, I’m not interested. Something Harrison would have known if he’d bothered to ask.”
I froze and stared at his face, marred by faint tracings of the war.
He had dark circles beneath his eyes, and the beginnings of a permanent line between his eyebrows.
Silvery scars crisscrossed his forehead and one cheek.
His body was long and lean and sharp. No indecision darkened his eyes, no trace of regret or shame, and the cold fury in them—or maybe the darkness—hid their color.
“Not…interested?” I whispered.
“Go to the kitchen. I’ll bring you what he wants.” He dropped my arm and turned away, heading back into the bedroom.
I stood unmoving for a few more seconds, but relief got the better of me and I fled through the house, then collapsed into a seat at the kitchen table.
The woodgrain captured my entire attention while my world tipped sideways.
What did he mean he wasn’t interested? Not interested for now, or not interested at all?
And if he wasn’t interested in that, then what did he want in exchange for his information? I had nothing else to give him.
Harrison would have known if he’d bothered to ask.
Why hadn’t Theo clarified the terms of this agreement?
Reappearing after a couple of minutes, Scott flopped a folder onto the table and dragged a chair close to me—close enough to touch. Every time his arm brushed mine, my heartbeat stuttered, and my skin set on fire. Why was he so warm?
Or was I just cold?
Was I going into shock?
“One condition of this arrangement is that you know the intel I give them.” He slid the folder between us and flipped it open. A delicate gold band glittered on his left pinky. “The information will be in your head alone.”
“Why?”
“Because it keeps the power dynamic in my favor, and it makes you incredibly valuable. If only you know the information, then you’re indispensable. I want a contact they won’t kill for knowing too much, and I don’t want a paper trail.”
“And you want a woman.”
He flashed me a quick glance. “I do.”
But why?
I’m not interested.
Harrison would have known if he’d bothered to ask.
Resisting the temptation to dive into that, I instead asked, “Why would you care if they kill me?”
“I plan to give a lot of information, and I don’t want to adapt to a new contact every time they feel the previous one has learned too much. The more people know about this, the more dangerous it is. I don’t particularly want to die in the way the NAO reserves for traitors.”
The monthly executions flashed through my mind. Treason was punishable by death. How a traitor achieved that death, however…
I gazed at his profile, frowning. “What makes you think I’d care how you die? I could turn you in today, and it would save a lot of people’s lives.”
“Would it?” Curiosity sparkled in his cold eyes. “We have more than enough soldiers to offset my absence.”
“You—you kill more than any of the others.”
His jaw flexed. “I’m good at my job.”
He was good at it. Too good at it. Terrifyingly good at it.
Icicles crystallized my bones at the memory of his cold-blooded executions, freezing to the point of pain. He could kill me in seconds.
His voice softened. “I’ll be good at this, too. If you’ll cooperate.”