Page 370 of Hunters and Prey

“What is this?” Royce asked.

They sounded way too close. Were they by the woman I’d just killed?

“We extracted her reproductive organs for study,” Hunley said. “We hope to print a replica and use it to eventually grow our own army. No need for breeding.”

Royce was silent for a long beat. “You could have closed her up afterwards.”

“I’m sorry, Commander. We had no plans for further use.”

“Then you should have euthanized her immediately.”

“She is dead now.”

“Yes. She is. A small mercy.” He sounded suddenly weary and angry all at the same time.

“Commander, I apologize that my methods are distasteful to you. However, we must do whatever it takes to achieve our goals, and these Skins mean nothing. They are mutated animals.”

There was a scuffle and a squeak.

“Don’t ever presume to lecture me on our goals.” Royce’s tone was tight and laced with anger. “I am the fucking commander. I am on the front lines, not hiding away in a fucking lab formulating snide comments.”

“I—I meant no offense, Commander.”

Another sigh. “We can pursue our goals in a humane fashion. We are not animals.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“And if you believe the Skins are nothing but mutated beasts, then your doctorate isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”

“Commander?”

“Burn the body, and in the future give a little consideration to the comfort of your subjects. Misguided as they are, they are our cousins and our only hope of ending this war.”

The voices moved away and Dante’s body relaxed a fraction. He jerked his head toward the wall where we’d spilled into the room.

I nodded.

He clasped my hand in his and we made a run for it.

We cleared two corridors in silence. Dante was a man on a mission. He had a destination in mind, and I was just a tagalong. My mind whirred with what we’d just seen and learned. The Bloods were building a super army. They had humans in some place called sector eight and were going to use them and the modified Skins to swell their ranks. Did the general population know what was going on? Probably not. Gustov had made out that he was merely forcefully recruiting Skins. I doubted that the average citizen knew what was really going on deep in the complex. There was nothing I could do about any of that, though, but maybe Dante could? He was Dreki, after all. Wasn’t he?

It was time for him to spill it. “Dante, are you Dreki?”

He stopped at a door and pulled me through into the room beyond. It was dark and close and smelled of disinfectant.

He pushed me against the wall, trapping me in the cage of his arms, and then leaned in so his lips were mere inches from my face. “Yes. I am Dreki.”

My breath exploded from my lips and mingled with his warm, sweet exhalation. He was a dragon, a fucking dragon parading around in human skin, and he was so close I could have tilted my head up and licked his jaw if I’d wanted.

He tucked in his chin, his eyes narrow in the gloom as he studied my reaction to his words. “We aren’t the enemy. We never were.”

I swallowed hard, because right now all I could think about were his lips, and what it might be like to taste them, and that nudged my anger because this wasn’t me. I was never one to be swayed by taut pecs and a pretty face. He must have sensed my annoyance because he reared back a little to study me better.

He cocked his head. “You’re not afraid.”

“I don’t get afraid. I inspire fear.”

His lip twitched. “Really?”

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