> He let out a short mental laugh that didn’t have a trace of humor in it. >
> Iz said gently. She ached for him.
> He curled up tightly on himself, his nose against his tail.
She tried frantically to think of some way to distract him from dwelling on this. She knew that as much as she hated feeling like her horizons had shrunk down to the walls of the cave, Logan had it even worse, and he hated it even more than she did, because he couldn’t stop blaming himself for not being “strong” enough to resist doing what he’d needed to do to survive.
> she said. >
He let out a soft, snuffly noise, like he wanted to say,I know what you’re doing.
But he answered her anyway. She could tell he was having a hard time, though, because the words were few and far between, and he was mostly just using images and tastes.
If they weren’t careful, they would both spiral off into self-recrimination and shame. Just because her version of it was a lot more justified than his didn’t mean it was harmless; if she wound up too busy reproaching herself to keep him company, she’d still be hurting him, and she knew it.
They were hungry, but they didn’t have to let their minds eat themselves.
> she said primly, as Logan showed her a lobster dinner.
His laughter was a little hollow, but at least it was there.
Chapter Ten
The gnawing, stomach-rumbling hunger of the first few days without food had become dizzying and all-consuming, leaving Logan weak and exhausted.
Sebastian was still sending fodder down for the animals, which was a tiny relief to the part of Logan’s mind occupied with trying to take care of his makeshift pack. If anything, Sebastian was feeding the rest of his collectionmore, just to taunt them. Every now and then, savory smells would fill the air, and Logan and Iz would have to retreat into frantically shared memories of steakhouses and soup dumplings and fried plantains, or whatever else they could bring to mind, just to distract themselves. These little fake meals of theirs were becoming their own kind of torture, but nothing else even stood a chance of distracting them.
It was bad, but at least it meant everyone else down here was sleek and healthy and well-fed.
But Iz wasn’t, and that was killing him.
He knew how bad he felt, and he knew a little about how bad he looked—even if he was sure he wasn’t getting the whole picture. None of that worried him as much as Iz.
The luminous gold of her scales was getting duller and dimmer by the day, like human skin going colorless and gray. No matter how much water she drank, her hide still seemed to be cracking, like she was drying out. The life was draining out of her right before his eyes.
And she was just sostill.