Page 80 of Princess of Thieves

Tuck watches me for a moment, then leans forward a bit, his curiosity clearly piqued. “Are you going to stay here?” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s afraid of the answer.

Ah. There it is. The reason he’s so damn curious about all the money.

I hesitate, the familiar knot of uncertainty tightening in my chest. “I’m... not sure,” I say, just as truthfully. “I’m not sure what I want, really. This whole situation... it’s nowhere near where I thought my life would be going.”

Tuck’s eyes remain on me, sympathetic but patient. “What did you see your life as, then?”

I glance down at my cup, watching the golden streaks of my latte swirling for a moment before I speak. “Well, my parentshad their expectations, I guess. You know—typical southern girl experience. Get married, have babies, settle down somewhere not too far from home.” I pause. “That was never quite for me, though.”

“Not unless it involves fixing cars.” Tuck smiles, his eyes soft but not pitying. He nods a few times, as though thinking over my words. “I get it,” he says after a moment, his voice quiet. “It’s hard, stepping outside of that expectation. My family’s got a whole different idea of what I should be doing, too.”

I raise an eyebrow, curious. “Yeah? What did they want for you?”

Tuck shrugs, smiling awkwardly. “You know, something more normal. Big fancy tech job, making big bucks writing code or something. Not...whatever this is.” He gestures to the mansion around us with a sheepish laugh. “But here we are.”

Tuck takes a breath, eyeing me thoughtfully. “You probably never thought about anything nontraditional like this...long-term,” he says, his voice gentle but probing.

I cock my head. “Which part is the nontraditional part?” I ask. “The part where you’re all criminal masterminds? Or the part where you’re shapeshifters? Or do you just mean all the group sex?” I can’t help but laugh, the sound coming out unexpectedly loud.

He looks down, clearly embarrassed. “I just meant—”

I wave my hand, a frisson of guilt striking me, trying to push past the moment. “No, I’m just teasing.” I purse my lips. “Honestly, no, I never thought of anything like this.”But what girl would’ve?I wonder.Besides one with a library card and a horny, overactive imagination.“But why does that matter? I’m an orphan, for better or worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I just mean...” WhatdoI mean? “Well, let me put it this way. They’d have been thrilled with someone like Guy Gisbourne.”

I feel a pang in my chest as soon as I say it. Because it’s probably true: My parents would’ve seen Guy as the ideal son-in-law, the total package: polished, successful, well-bred, well-educated, and charming in all the right ways. I think back to how Guy had insisted on all his good qualities, how he’d sold himself as a man of virtue, a perfect catch.

Tuck’s voice pulls me out of the memory. “Did you ever...actually feel attracted to him?”

“No,” I say quickly, too quickly. Then I pause, considering. “Well, not really. There were times when he didn’t seem that bad, I guess?” I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the admission. “Like, he did house and clothe and feed me and...”

A dim realization pings in the depths of my memory.

“And?” Tuck prompts.

“And his food sucked,” I finish. I shake my head. “I mean,hisfood didn’t suck. But mine did. It was all sort of...healthy. But suspiciously healthy. Like eating-disorder level.” I’m putting it together as I speak out loud, the puzzle piecing itself into full view. I look at Tuck. “You said my powers take up a lot of energy?”

“Sure.” He nods. “All of ours do. That’s why we can’t shift if we’re injured—our body is using all its juice to heal up. And...” He smiles. “I guess that’s why I’m always slinging up the huge meals.”

I chew my lip. Say nothing.

Tuck frowns.

“Why do you ask?”

“I...” I exhale hard. It’s not definitive proof, not of anything. Maybe Guy’s one of those 50 Shades types who wants hisgirlfriends within a very specific weight range and body type. Also a red flag, but in a different direction.

But if he knew that I had power of some kind...knew what I needed to manifest it...

“That fucker is twisted,” I say out loud. Tuck’s eyes widen. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t even really answer your question. I guess he managed to fool me well enough to keep me in place.” Not that I really had a choice. And I got out as fast as I could. “And there were times...times he came off as genuine. Especially when he talks about family.”

Tuck is listening intently, his brow furrowed, though I can’t quite place why. I keep going. “His mom died of cancer. He told me about it once. He really seemed to miss her...” My words trail off, and I find myself staring down into my mug, feeling the weight of the conflicting emotions.

When I look up, Tuck is frowning. There’s something behind his eyes—something that looks like concern, but I can’t be sure. It’s like he’s turning something over in his mind, but he’s not letting me in on it.

I tilt my head slightly, and Tuck waves me off. “It’s nothing,” he says, his voice a little too casual. “You should just finish your latte.” He stands up. “I’ve got some research to do. Get some rest, okay?”

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