Firstlife by Gena Showalter Page A

did that mean?
    â€œThe long con requires more planning and preparation. A longer window of interaction with a target as well as a longer period of time to execute the main objective—signing you.”
    White-hot anger sparks. “Not everyone is obsessed with eternity.”
    â€œYeah, but wouldn’t the guy who claimed to love you want you to be with him forever? And you once mentioned bonuses... I bet staff and inmates alike receive them.”
    She...she... Oh! She’s ticking me off!
    â€œWhat else did you like about him?”
    â€œScrew you. I’m done with this subject.”
    She gives a regal wave of her hand, all the queen wishes you to proceed . “Was he staff or inmate?”
    â€œStaff. And he lived for me—then he died for me.” Apparently I’m not done with the subject. My chin trembles, my defensive tone echoing in my ears. “He was killed when he aided my escape attempt.”
    Nine months have passed since Dr. Vans shot him in the chest.
    A baby spends nine months in a mother’s womb. The phrase “on cloud nine” means to be happy or euphoric.
    I’m anything but happy. Maybe I should sign with Myriad. I’ll get to see James again.
    Part of me expected him to visit at least once. Even though the realms claim loved ones can damage a cause far worse than a stranger, so laws are in place to prevent after-death interactions.
    â€œYou saw his actions,” Bow says, “but not his heart.”
    Is she serious? “Actions reveal heart.”
    â€œNot always. Deception is all about perception.”
    Okay. That’s it. “I’m done with this subject.” I mean it this time.
    â€œOf course you are.” With an unfeminine grunt, she falls onto her pillow. “You’re a runner.”
    The words are like a punch to the gut. “I’m a fighter.”
    â€œHa! Fighters take a stand.”
    I throw myself on my bed and peer up at the ceiling, wishing I lived in a time before the realms existed. Not that there was such a time. There is and has always been a Firstking. He created both Myriad and Troika, a realm to give each of his sons. Then he created the Land of the Harvest and humans. Subjects to inhabit the kingdoms— after they picked a kingdom.
    Of course, one brother soon plotted to destroy the other, hoping to rule both realms, and a war ignited.
    Guess who says which brother is at fault?
    Many Ends was (supposedly) created for criminals, but ultimately became the home for the Unsigned.
    â€œTenley Lockwood. You are expected in the commons.” The heavily accented female voice suddenly spills from the speakers strategically placed in our ceiling. Next, the door opens.
    Well, zero. The time has come.
    I give myself a pep talk: A pretty face won’t sway you, and pretty words won’t affect you. You will remain distanced. No boy is worth the hardships that accompany him—not here.
    â€œBe careful.” Bow’s anger drains, and worry takes its place. “Do you have steel panties? If yes, put them on right now .”
    I snort and rush into the hall, where I find Killian waiting for me. His eyes aren’t on me, but Bow, and they’re crackling with fury. His hands are balled into fists, ready to deliver.
    Bow remains in place, staring back through slitted lids, but her hands aren’t balled, and she doesn’t try to sneak out and murder him, so I consider it a major improvement.
    Like me, Killian has been relieved of his jumpsuit. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and both fit him to perfection. I mean, wow. If he was beautiful before, he’s exquisite now. He’s a boy—man—without equal.
    â€œHow old are you?” I find myself asking.
    â€œNineteen.” When his blue-gold gaze finally finds me, he gives me a once—twice—over and smiles. “For once, I’m glad for my lack of years.”
    So he can score without