Claire didn't look any worse for wear after a day in the offsite location Dusty had scouted as a temporary dungeon for their prisoners. If not for the worried flicker of her gaze past him to see who followed, Damian would have thought this a social call.
"Dusty's not here," he said, irritated by the inference that he was somehow someone to be less feared.
"I guess I should feel honored to have your personal attention," she said acidly.
She sat on one of two fold-out chairs in the concrete room, legs crossed and hands in her lap. He pulled up the other chair and sat across from her.
"Two hundred and sixty three," he started. "That's the number of Guardians you've killed directly with your actions over the past few thousand years. In an organization of less than five thousand, that's a lot."
"I offered to become your queen after Darian died," she replied. "You threw me out with nowhere to go after the man who was meant to be my husband was killed. Who do you think paid the bills if you didn't?"
"I'm not sure how betraying everything your husband stood for would excuse anything you did. You're a pretty twisted bitch."
Her eyes narrowed. Damian regarded her coolly, unwilling to let someone so undeserving get the best of him. When he wanted, he could be as cold as Dusty.
"You'd never understand," she replied.
"You're right. I'd never kill my mate or sell myself to Czerno."
"It's that bitch, isn't it?" she exclaimed, rising and pacing. "I was meant to be at your side, not her!"
Damian felt something cool further within him at the reference to Sofia.
"You were meant to be at Darian's side. Your skills as an Oracle were terrible, but he would've mated with you anyway," he corrected her.
She shook her head as if he were the fool.
"Will you tell me why you betrayed him before I kill you?" he asked with calmness at odds with the storm in his breast.
Claire glanced away then back at him, taking in the resolve on his face. Suddenly she was mewling, kneeling beside him, her hands on his thigh and her face soft and beguiling.
Like the night she'd come to visit him upon arriving in Tucson. Damian gritted his teeth, remembering how tempted he'd been by the same ruse a few nights before.
"Forgive me, Damian. What I did was wrong," she whispered. There were tears in her eyes, and she looked sincere.
She killed Darian.
Damian stood and moved away, emotions roiling. How could someone so treacherous have lived under his nose for thousands of years? How had he ever turned a blind eye to her? He touched her mind for the first time ever, and his resolve solidified at the images he saw there.