Page 28 of The Puppet Master
It’s just lost.
Lost can be found.
Don’t panic.
Don’t look weak.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say past the tightness in my throat. Emotion shows through, my own grief etched into my words as thoughfinally, I’ve learned how to respond to others’ pain. After twenty-four years of scorn for being afrigid bitch, Luna Cox—Childless, loveless, ice cold—has a heart. It sounds so real, only I know it’s a lie, and for a moment, I see how Sawyer does it.
Real emotion. Fake story.
Extremely useful… when it isn’t asociopathI’m trying to convince that Ido, in fact, have empathy. I’m hiscaptive, for heaven's sake.
He runs his thumb beneath his eye while laughing bitterly. “Don’t apologize to me. You’ve just been taken from your home, and now I’m supposed to…” He shakes his head. “Never apologize to me. I don’t deserve your compassion.”
I just stare at him. A kinder soul might disagree.
“The biggest mistake I ever made was believing living my wife’s dying wish would make me less lonely. The second will bewhatever I let happen to you… I will do everything in my power to help you, Luna. I just need you to trust me.”
I peer into sky blue irises a moment before turning away. He keeps saying my name, over and over again. Intentional—probably—but disconcerting. What is thatsupposedto do?
Looking down, I pick at a loose strand on the hem of my sweater. I tug sharply to snap the thread—only to watch the knit spread open. Figures. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust you when you’re asking me to be a whore.”
“I’m not asking.”
I look up with a glare.
“Listen to me, Luna.” He inches into my bubble, his palms settling warm and heavy on my shoulders.“I don’t want you to be here. I wish they’d never chosen you… But they did, and you’re as stuck here as I am. Thatsucks, I know, but hear me when I say that the best course of action for you is to at leastfakeobedience. That’ll get you through the next few weeks.”
In other words …survive.
My molars press together hard as I take in his words. They aren’t far off from what my father would say.
Survive.
Adapt.
That is the way to conquer the world. Joy makes people lazy. Pain makes them strong. I know this not in my gut but in the architecture of my bones. But following Sawyer—or anyone—blindly is something I will never do. Only the weak-willed would give in to his request just because he’s … handsome? Emotional? Good at lying?
It’s going to take more than that.
Any sane person would have doubts.
But any clever person would hide them.
I close my eyes while letting out a shaky breath. When I shift my feet, my damp panties come into focus, the uncomfortable reminder of earlier made physical by the sensation.
“Okay,” I whisper, fluttering my eyelids open.
He sighs, relief softening his posture as he leans a fraction too close. But I don’t back away. Not even when his thumb hooks in the crook of my collarbone, and his hands on my shoulders suddenly feels intimate.
“All of this is simpler than you think,” he begins. Something catches his eye up the path, and I follow his gaze just in time to see Thorne come to a halt, shoulders lurching forward as if he’s physically stopping his enormous frame from tumbling. Surprise—as if he just walked in on two people having sex. Then … shame. Concern. His eyes roaming my blazing face, tight with an awkwardness that slithers like a snake down my spine.
Finally, anger. Directed at Sawyer with a sneer.
I turn my head into Sawyer’s chest.
“Checking up on us?” Sawyer asks, his hands sliding off my shoulders as he faces Thorne with an open chest. It’s a simple question, but he says it like a challenge. He stands taller as he embraces Thorne’s glare. They don’t like each other. That much is obvious.
