The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp 1)

Before he could act upon his instincts, however, something occurred to him.

“Why did your family send you on this suicidal mission?” he asked abruptly. “Have you no brothers? No sire?”

Her brows arched. “Males aren’t the only people who are capable of things.”

“No. This should have been carried out by a male relation of your bloodline. Have they no shame?”

Nyx seemed to need a moment to gather herself. “Wow. You know, in the hundred years since you ended up down here, a lot has changed. They let us girls drive cars and hold jobs—oh, and we can vote. Or, well, if I was a human, I could vote. But still.”

“I have offended you,” he said levelly. “For that I am sorry.”

Nyx tilted her head. “But wait, lemme guess. You’re sticking with your dated and sexist position.”

“You expect me to apologize for wanting to protect females? You will not get that, now or ever.”

“‘Protection’ is another word for subjugate.”

“It is? You must explain.”

“You think you need to protect me because I’m weaker than you are.”

“I can most certainly lift more than you can.”

“And that’s everything? Please. Spare me the caveman routine.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Your problem is that you think being able to bench-press a car gives you the right to dictate things that are none of your business.”

“You’ll have to remind me of this when I ensure your safety against the guards.”

“I’ll save myself, thank you very much—”

“It must be nice to know everything about everything. And you accuse me of being an overlord? All you need is a castle and a moat and you’re a medieval knight. At least in your own mind.”

“That’s where it counts most, buddy—”

“Fates, you can’t ever concede a point—”

The two of them were speaking faster and louder, and in the back of his mind, he knew what was happening. Both of them were uneasy with the sexual attraction, unsure of how far to take things, but dearest Virgin Scribe, he was hungry. For her.

And she was the same. Her scent had changed, and everything that was male in him recognized her arousal—and was driven to do something about it.

“—males like you boxing us in, making us feel less than—” She stopped. “What.”

“Do go on.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I enjoy watching you argue with yourself.”

“FYI, you were tossing a few sentences back there yourself, Judgy McJudgerson.”

He shook his head and frowned. “I’m sorry? I am not a magistrate?”

Nyx opened her mouth. Closed it. “Have you ever heard of a meme?”

“Of course. A performer in black and white who doesn’t speak.”

“That’s a mime. A meme is . . .” As she seemed to let her thought recede, her temper appeared to deflate. “You don’t know anything about the Internet, do you. Social media. Microsoft. Apple.”

“Small and supple, you mean? And the latter is a fruit I have long missed the acquaintance of. As for the rest, I’m afraid you have me at a loss.” As they stared at each other, he knew she was tallying his deficiencies with regard to the modern world. “You can stop that right now. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I don’t need or desire your sympathy.”

She looked to the swirling water again. “I just can’t imagine being down here for so long, that’s all.”

As she struggled, the Jackal cursed under his breath. “I have missed much then?”

“In a hundred years, yes.” She cleared her throat. Looked back at him. “By the way, is it okay if I just call you Jack? The ‘the’ thing is a little weird.”

He had to smile. “You may call me whatever you wish.”

“Even if it’s a curse word?”

“Rest assured you would not be the first.”

“That I can believe.”

He found himself wanting to smile. “Tell me, what would you pick?”

“Out of the full catalogue of bad words?” She regarded him with grave seriousness. “I think I would go with . . . ‘boneheaded chauvinistic throwback boomer.’ ”

The Jackal blinked a number of times. “I don’t recognize those words as curses. And I’m not sure what this backwards-pitched boomer is?”

Ducking her head, she hid a smile he was desperate to see. “I guess I’m more of a lady than I thought. ‘Twat-waffle’ and ‘fucktard’ just seemed below the belt and inappropriate.”

“Twat-waffle? What is that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not good.”

They fell silent again, but the tension was gone—although not the heat. Therefore, he felt compelled to say, “I would kiss you the now, if it would not offend.”

It was out of an obligation to all that was rational that Nyx tried on a bunch of responses to the kiss question in her head, making a deep cognitive dive. Into Netflix and Spotify.

Emma Thompson, ca. Sense and Sensibility: You must cease and desist all such lustful thoughts, you beast.

Emma Stone, ca. Zombieland: Over your dead body.