Page 65 of Greed: The Savage
She’d have traded her soul for the comforts of a roof that didn’t leak and enough to fill her belly. Hers was not a judgment or condemnation, but rather—
Malric’s voice sliced through. “All you ever wanted was shelter and food. Not much of a bargain for a soul, is it?”
His voice was low, edged with something like regret.
His thoughts followed too closely in line with hers. It unnerved her. It terrified her.
Addien looked him square in the eyes. “I did not say that.” The heat flooding her cheeks betrayed her.
“Ahh,” he murmured, his fingertip gliding over her callused palm and sending a shiver through her. “You didn’t need to.”
She swallowed hard.
When he finally ceased his distracted caress, she breathed easier—though her body still hummed from the closeness.
Malric, to his credit, carried on casually. “Among the duke’s many talents, he excels at whoring, bleeding his tenants dry, grinding hope from his servants. His favorite sport—beating his wife and children—ended only because the wife died and the sons grew up.”
He smiled then, a bitter curve that never reached his eyes.
The sight sent a cold ache through her.
Him. He had been one of those children. He spoke of the beatings with the same detachment she used for her own scars from the streets. They were alike, yet opposite sides of a coin—and the thought of him as a small boy enduring such cruelty left her shamed for having assumed his title had spared him ugliness.
How far he’d let her in. Did he even realize? Surely not. For if he had, he’d have slammed the panel shut on his darkest memories long before now.
Afraid to move lest he close up and cease sharing parts of himself she was strangely curious about, Addien kept motionless.
“That is why you’ve devoted your life to protecting others,” she said softly, certain she understood him.
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she’d erred.
“What work is it you mean, Addien?” His voice was steel wrapped in warning.
She blinked at him. “Here, at the Devil’s Den. What else? You’ve only ever spoken of your work for the government—not the details of it.”
With a leopard’s speed, he lunged, bracing his arms on either side of her.
Once, in the streets of St. Giles, there’d been a mangy stray that snarled and snapped at everyone, sending them scattering in fear of its fangs. Addien had discovered it was all bluff—just a bark, no bite. Malric was the same.
At least, to her.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know my history, minx,” he snarled.
Addien didn’t flinch. He’d already shown her who he was. He wouldn’t hurt her.
“I know you and your merry band of courtesans gossip about me and my past.”
Without backing down, Addien bared her teeth in a snarl to rival that long-lost dog she’d once searched for after finding her home at the Devil’s Den—searched for but never found.
“You flatter yourself, Malric.”Tell me!She yearned to know. “Other people might find you interesting enough to talk about, but I got more important business and things to worry about than gossiping about some scandal that sent some fancy nob here.”
Addien held her breath, hoping that was enough to elicit more.
Malric edged closer.
“By hell,” he whispered. His gravelly tone was wound tight with peril. “You had better hope to God you aren’t—”
“You really haven’t learned anything about me,” she said quietly, cutting off the rest of his warning. “Loyalty.”
