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“No,” he said, crouching down beside the bed, getting on my level.

“No?”

“No.” Dark brown eyes stared humorlessly into mine. “No lies. Not this time.”

“I don’t lie.”

“Or evasions. Or tricky answers. I swear you’re as bad as the master.”

Considering who his master was, I decided to take that as a compliment. “Thank you?”

“Damn it, Cassie! I want to know what the hell is going on.”

“Yes, well—”

“And when I want to know, is now!”

I licked my lips.

It wasn’t that I liked keeping things from Marco. He was actually a very good bodyguard. Or he would have been for anybody else. I sometimes felt pretty bad for him, since he was the type who liked to think he was on top of things, that he had everything under control, that the world was sane and all was in its proper place.

Boy, had he gotten the wrong job.

But even if I’d been willing to spill secrets that weren’t really mine, the fact was that Marco didn’t want to know what was going on.

He didn’t want to know that the reason he had a living room full of Pythian initiates was because a handful of their number had just tried to kill them by blowing up the old Pythian Court. Not because they hated them, but in order to set a trap for me. One that had almost worked.

He didn’t want to know that the acolytes responsible were still out there somewhere. Or that the abilities they’d received from the old Pythia before she died had never been rescinded. Meaning that they could technically pop in here at any moment.

I didn’t actually think they would. I was a lot more vulnerable elsewhere, and it was me they were after. But still. I didn’t think Marco wanted to know that all the wards, guns, and vampire skills in the world might not be enough to deal with those girls’ power if they decided to risk it.

“Well?” he demanded.

“I’m thinking.”

“Damn it, Cassie!”

“Can you help . . . with this thing?” I asked, gesturing at the corset, which was the kind that laced up the back.

I wasn’t stalling for time; I really was having trouble breathing. All that water had tautened the strings, as Marco found out when he flipped me over and tried to loosen them.

He muttered something and pulled out the knife again. “I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know where you are!” he told me, hacking away. “Or who you’re with. Or what the hell you’ve been up to!”

“Exactly,” I muttered into the mattress.

Marco also didn’t want to know that I’d been hanging out with Satan’s good buddy, only no. Satan, assuming he existed, probably had better taste. So did I, but I was stuck, at least for the moment.

And damn it, we’d been so close!

“You’re not going to tell me a damned thing, are you?” Marco asked, flipping me over again.

The corset was in shreds, allowing me to take my first deep breath in what felt like days. For a moment, I just lay there, exploring the wonder that was oxygen. And staring up at Marco, who, despite current appearances, was a good person and a good friend. He deserved better than the insanity that was my life these days.

Of course, for that matter, so did I.

“You ought to ask for a transfer,” I told him honestly.

Thick brows drew together into a frown. “It’s that bad?”

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