Bone Deep(44)

His brows rose. “What? No! It is perfection. But I worry about you being cold. You and your sisters are always naked.”

Shock ran through her, cooling her blood even as it sparked the rage in her. “You have seen my sisters nude?” Why did she care?

He nodded and a small smile played on his lips. “That angers you?”

“I—” She cut the words off. She would not admit these things to him so she didn’t say anything.

He started to stand and Bone whirled on him then. “Stay there. If you’d hear about my time in Arequipa it is best you stay there, away from me.”

He nodded. “I did not mean to tease you.”

She inclined her head and said no more, just turned to the night outside the window and stared at the moon. There was no peace in her memories. None. And after what she’d experienced in the bed with him it seemed a violation to bring up the past.

But he would never stop, it was written on his face, and it was best he understood what he was dealing with. Perhaps then he would realize it didn’t matter if he knew what formed her—she was what she was.

Killer.

“I’ve told you how I came to be with Joseph. My parents attempted to trade my life for theirs and in the end I was the one to walk away.” She met his gaze in the window, the small amount of light from the bathroom throwing him in relief. “I consider them my first kills.”

His face hardened and he almost reached for her.

Do not, her heart begged.

Let him come, screamed her soul.

Already the lust for a fight was brewing inside her.

“He had come for me. It is said my aba was a very good killer; well-versed in many different martial arts. My aba was incessant when he took a life—he liked to torture and maim until he’d extracted as much information as he could from his enemy. Joseph had hired him on several occasions and in the end, my father made a grave mistake. He took money for a hit he didn’t perform.”

“Who was the contract for?” Dmitry asked into her silence.

“My mother. You see they may not have cared one whit about me but their love for each other knew no bounds.”

Dmitry cursed, the sound low but reaching her ears and stoking the fires inside her.

“They tried to hide, but there was nowhere to run. Joseph delighted in telling me as I got older how easily they gave me up. He also told me of his hopes that my father’s genes had taken hold much deeper than my mothers. He felt she was weak. ‘No mother who offers up her child is worth shit on the bottom of my shoes,’ he said.”

She turned and stared. He did not flinch from her gaze.

“He was right, yes?”

Dmitry nodded.

“Remember that in the future, Asinimov. Mothers should never give up their children,” she said, keeping her voice low.

Another nod though confusion marred the lines of his face. He would understand soon and it would hurt her to watch that break across his face.

“When I first came to Arequipa, I was placed in a dark room, maybe five feet by five feet. I was forced to use the bathroom in a hole in the floor and I was starved for many days. I resorted to drinking my own urine at one point which made Joseph laugh but applaud my creativity. ‘She’s a survivor, Minton!’ he crowed, though Minton only shrugged. I could hear other children weeping, some talking to themselves or the visions their minds sent them. I wasn’t scared. Through it all, I was not scared.”

She paused, inhaled, and continued to stare at him, though she only saw the past.

“I hated him and that grew in the place of my fear.”

Dmitry remained still and she was grateful. Death beat at the walls of her mind now.

“When he finally took me out I was seated a table filled with so many meats and fruits and sweets. I remember my belly cramping the bounty was so great. I started to reach for something and was cuffed on the side of the head, knocked from my chair. Minton was screaming at me and Joseph? He watched every move I made. My fists clenched and I remember the rage filled my belly, filled me up so that I wasn’t hungry any longer. I just wanted to kill him. Then Minton kicked me in the stomach and I curled into a ball on the floor.

“Joseph came to stand over me. ‘Get up child. You have much to learn but the fire of hate burns in your eyes and I can use that,’ he said in his black voice. He grabbed my hands which were still clenched and he stroked my knuckles, smiling. ‘Your name will be Bone because you want to kill and I will teach you all the ways to do that with your hands, feet and body. You will be my Bone Breaker and you will be as your father named you.’”

The words flowed from her and she could not find the strength to stop them.

“I got up, stood before him and I smiled, mimicking his, and he nodded. Then he led me to my chair, sat me in it and I looked around the table to see four other girls, small like me but different. They were beautiful, Dmitry. So beautiful. Tiny faces, smooth skin and hair so different from mine but their eyes—so filled with hate—were like mine as well. From the moment I saw them they were mine.”

She traced a line of condensation down the glass pane.

“We began to train. At first, it was paper targets, then it was other children. Bait, he called them. We either hit our targets or we were punished. Bullet and Arrow were the first to master their crafts. Blade came next, though she was punished mightily for not making her blades correctly at first.”