Page 142 of The Games Gods Play
Boone’s self-satisfied smile fades, turning to something like accusation aimed directly at me. “I’m thinking I’m a fucking thief, Lyra. What about you?”
I stand firm, crossing my arms over my thin pajama top, not completely unaware that I’m not wearing a bra right now. “What about me?”
He steps closer. “Your skills may be rusty, but the second that dickhead Dex tipped his hand that he’s gunning for you, you should have taken this.” He holds up the helm. “And you know it. That’s just the way the world works, even here.”
He tosses the helm on my bed.
“I’m not going to play like that.” I lift my chin.
“Dex can survive without the helm.” His hands curl into fists. “You might not, given the way he can use it to get close to you. You’ll be dead before you realize.”
“I already have more tools than the others,” I say. “Hades has been punished once for it. I’m not taking away someone else’s just because I don’t like them.”
“Don’t like them?” Boone is practically yelling. “He wants to kill you, Lyra.”
My mouth drops open, and I know I’m staring, but the way he’s yelling…
Boone must catch my confusion, because he calms a little, eyeing me. “What?”
“You sound like you care.”
“I do.”
I give my head a hard shake. “That’s not possible.”
Tension steals through his shoulders, and he glances away. “I don’t care like that—”
Oh hells. “No,” I rush to stop him from saying one more word. “I mean care enough to worry about me like this. Zeus cursed me the day I was born. I’m unlovable. I can’t be loved or cared about.”
Boone goes thief-still, his gaze taking me in like he’s never seen me before. “Is that true?”
I shrug.
“Unlovable,” he murmurs more to himself, like he’s trying to wrap his head around the meaning. “That really…sucks.”
He surprises a laugh out of me. “Yeah. It really does.”
“Who else knows?”
“Felix. Hades. My parents.” So-called. “That’s it.”
Boone’s brows draw down. “That can’t be right.”
“I assure you it is.”
He still shakes his head. “I’ve always admired you.”
He has?
“You’re smart, and you see things others don’t—like, every detail. It’s what makes you such a good clerk.”
Boone thinks I’m a good clerk. A bubble of surprised happiness expands in my chest, but I pop it. “Admiration isn’t caring.”
“Sure it is,” he insists. “I’ve even wanted to partner with you on a few scores.”
I rear back. “The hells you say.”
He grins. “I mean it. But you’ve always put this wall around yourself with a giant ‘stay the fuck away’ sign at the gate. You kept all the pledges at arm’s length, so no one has had a chance to get to know you. To be your friend.”
