Blood and Sin (The Infernari Book 1) by Laura Thalassa, Dan Rix Page A

nothing had ever come between us.
    “Alright, let’s take a look,” he said, steering clear of the subject altogether. “You said you’d captured one?”
    “You fucking blind? Right there.” I jabbed a finger at the cage. “Juvenile female, healer, early to mid-twenties, my guess . . . she gives me the willies, bro. Been freaking me out all morning.”
    Her captivated eyes, I noticed, flicked back and forth between us . . . missing nothing.
    Lana
    I paced behind the bars.
    Trapped.
    Trapped in this world, this house, this room. Inside all this welded metal, as Asher had been so eager to inform me.
    Once I got my hands on some blood, he wouldn’t be so impressed with his welded metal then.
    The other human—the one he called Brad—startled at the sight of me. “Asher, you have a fucking cell down here? How many of them have you brought here?”
    “A lot less than the number I’ve killed.”
    “To your house ?” Brad said. “Bro, you sleep here.”
    “That’s never stopped them from coming in before,” he said darkly. “Now, at least, they have proper accommodations.”
    Brad took a tentative step forward. He was nothing like Asher, save for the mercenary build. He was light to Asher’s darkness, his hair the color of dry grass, his eyes the clear, cerulean blue of sky, skin the color of dry sand.
    This one made me nervous. For one thing, he looked at me the way Infernari did when they wanted to court you. For another, he seemed to be Asher’s opposite, and I wanted to like him simply because of it. But humans were all the same when it came to us.
    Brad walked over to me, and the way he stared . . . I felt like I was on exhibit. The man was transfixed. I stared back. He could be on exhibit too.
    He dipped his head, not quite managing to look away. “You’ve probably noticed, Jame here, he’s kind of a dick—”
    “She’s lucky I haven’t done worse,” Asher growled.
    Fidel’s severed hands, his decapitated head, all that blood that pumped out of his neck . . . I could see it like it was happening all over again.
    Asher glared at me, as if the fact that I was still breathing personally upset him. Knowing what a psycho he was, it probably did.
    Brad turned back to him. “This is wrong, imprisoning her down here.”
    “She should be used to it. The fucker’s love those shithole caves.”
    A growl began low in my throat.
    Asher’s friend stepped in front of my line of sight. “Ignore him.”
    I forced my attention to drift to Brad. “You humans think we don’t understand your ways, but in our world, we also question prisoners this way—one man good, the other bad. So save your lies for someone who can’t see through them.”
    He placed his hand over his heart. “I’m on your side, sweetheart. Swear to God.” Leaning closer, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and whispered, “I don’t even like this asshole.”
    “Then why aren’t you trying to get me out of this cage?”
    “Because he doesn’t want to get shanked,” Asher called over. “He may be soft as baby shit, but he’s not an idiot.”
    I hissed at him in response.
    “Whoa, everybody chill,” Brad said, motioning his hands, palms down, toward the floor. “And fuck you, Asher.”
    I exhaled, glaring at Asher, then resumed pacing.
    Brad tapped his chest. “I’m Brad, let’s start with that, alright?”
    “I already know your name.”
    Brad watched me, his eyes twinkling. This one, he didn’t seem so hateful or irreverent. “And yet I still don’t know yours.”
    My eyes flicked to Asher, who had been very adamant about not learning my name.
    “Don’t look at him,” Brad said. “Look at me.”
    I breathed in and out through my nose, and forced my gaze back to Brad. He had kind eyes for a human. And unlike the other natives I had met, he knew what I was.
    “Lana,” I said. “My name is Lana Malesuis.”
    Asher stood, and the way the couch sighed as he rose, the way his clothes creaked—everything