Page 72 of Legacy of Chaos

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

She frowned, and then her lids lifted in realization. “Oh,that.” Catching her bottom lip with her teeth, she studied him. Again with that sexy-professor way of hers. His dick stirred. “You sure you want to risk waiting? What if Blade doesn’t show up?”

“He’ll be here,” he said gruffly, the topic of his brother settling his dick down. “Blade might hate me, but he doesn’t want me dead.”

“But what if something happens? What if they can’t get through the fog? Or—” She inhaled, obviously deciding against saying, “What if he’s injured or killed?”

“He’ll be here,” he repeated. “Blade won’t pass up a chance to ride in and save the day.” To be fair, though, neither would Stryke. If he could be the heroandmake his brother look bad, it was a no-brainer.

She was still thinking. “It’s just…I have an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

“Well, you said you avoid sex. You wait until the last second.”

“Yeah. So? Are you ever in a rush to do something you despise?”

She looked at him with pity, and suddenly, he was twenty-two again, Chaos was dead, and people either pitied or hated him. It had taken years, but he’d finally built an empire that ensured no one pitied him ever again. Hate, sure. He got that. He was a selfish shitbag.

But man, he hated pity.

“Okay,” she said with a decisive nod. “I get it. I mean, not in the same way as you, obviously, but I’ve been known to put off getting cavities in my teeth filled half a dozen times.”

“See, we both avoid drilling.”

She laughed. “Oh, my gods. You actually have a sense of humor.”

“I’ve mastered all the coping mechanisms,” he said dryly. That said, when it came to coping, he usually went with avoidance. Humor took too much effort. And all that smiling.

“Has it always been that way?” She moved around the table, coming closer, and he wondered what she was up to. “Like, even before what happened to Chaos?”

Yeah, for the most part. He’d learned from Blade and Mace how to flirt, but Stryke had done the bare minimum required to get laid, and then he’d been all about skipping to the end. The females didn’t mind a lack of foreplay, not when the finale involved dozens of orgasms. They got off for up to half an hour, and he got to go back to work. Win-win.

“Always,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“You tell me. You’re the one psychoanalyzing me.”

“Hmm.” She pressed her lips together in thought and then nodded decisively. “You seem like the type who resentshavingto do anything.”

Impressive. And as much as he admired her accurate insight into his behavior, he wasn’t sure he liked how easily she read him.

“That,” he said, “is not wrong. Sex is like food. Something the body needs and that consumes far too much time. If I could get all the nutrients and sexual chemicals I need from pills or injections, I’d never eat or fuck again. Like sex, I hate that I need to eat.”

Her mouth fell open. Snapped shut. “Wait. Food? You hatefood?”

“I don’thatefood,” he told her, “I resent having to eat. There’s a difference. Eating simply isn’t a priority.”

“My belly aches for you.” She slapped a hand across her stomach, and he regretted not bringing her a meal from the galley. “Do you enjoyanyfood?”

“I can appreciate good food. And I’ll try anything once. But in general, eating is boring and a waste of time. Like sex, I hate that I need it.”

“Oh, man.” She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “That is…I don’t even know what to say.”

He shrugged. “No one does. It’s okay. Not even my family knows how to deal with me.”

In that way, he’d always felt a certain kinship with Rade. No one understood him, either.

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