“Do not try to fight,” he ordered.
“I’m tired of not fighting!”
Surprise flickered across his face. His chest rose and fell quickly. It made him seem so very nearly human, and she drew in a sharp breath.
He’s feeling something.
She stopped struggling. He seemed cold, acted stoic, but underneath that exterior there was a beating heart, a warm body, hot blood. Did he feel things like sympathy? What about pain? Desire?
His jaw shifted. Even without pupils, she knew he was looking straight into her eyes. He took one last deep breath, and the pace of his breathing slowed, and the heartbeat pulsing in his hands returned to a regular rate.
He released her wrists but didn’t move away.
“Yes. In answer to your question, we feel all those things. Sympathy. Pain. Desire. They are unintelligent emotions—signs of weakness. Complete eradication is impossible, so we attempt to suppress them in public. Some of us are better at it than others.”
Cora dug the heel of her palm against her temple. “But . . . I didn’t say anything.” She dragged her fingers through her hair, then dropped them abruptly. “You read my mind, didn’t you?”
He didn’t bother to answer. She wished for the ability to steady her own pounding heart as easily as he had.
“That’s how you know my song too, isn’t it? You probed in my head and found my memories. That’s why you keep playing it on the jukebox.”
“The Warden thought it would calm you.”
“The last thing it does is calm me!” Her voice echoed in the chamber. The sleepy girl in the cage stirred awake and looked at them. For a second, Cora realized how they must look. Only inches apart. Her back pressed to the wall. Flushed face and rumpled clothes.
Panic filled her. Would the girl think it was a tryst? Did that even happen between humans and Kindred? But the girl just gave a long yawn and started picking at her toes. Cora’s chest sank in relief, but it didn’t last for long. The Caretaker still watched her with those eyes that could reach too far into her head. How were they supposed to escape from creatures who could read their minds?
He hadn’t blinked once, she realized.
He paced to the center of the room mechanically, returning to his stoic state, seemingly unconcerned with how much he terrified her. She reminded herself that it was the Warden who had tried to kill her, not him. It didn’t make him any less of a monster, but maybe it meant he didn’t intend to hurt her—at least not yet.
Her breath slowed a fraction. “Why keep me behind?”
“It has been three days, and you have not slept adequately. By not sleeping you are disobeying Rule Two: maintain your health.” He tilted his head. “We are not as heartless as you imagine. We recognize that you, in particular, have certain fears—enclosed spaces, deep bodies of water—that prevent you from a restful slumber. I would like to help you. Tell me what you require to sleep.”
“What I require?” Her throat felt dry. “To go home. For all of us to go home, and that girl in the cage too, while you’re at it.”
“That is not possible.”
“Why? Has something happened to Earth? Is that what you meant, about how humans always destroy their surroundings?” Her voice rose in pitch, but he didn’t answer. “We deserve to know where we are and if our families are okay!”
His eyes stayed trained on her, just as hers stayed trained on him. It was a staring contest she was determined not to lose, even against someone who never blinked.
“I want you to be happy here, Girl Two. I can bring you a different pillow. A nighttime snack, if you prefer.”
She almost laughed, though it would sound hysterical. A pillow? Dessert? She hadn’t slept well after she was released from Bay Pines, either. She’d taken those long drives at night, listening to the radio. Only one thing had helped: Sadie, her old basset hound, who curled up protectively at the foot of the bed. Sadie had creaky joints and smelled like autumn leaves and couldn’t have protected her from an angry cat, but she had loved Cora unconditionally, in the way only a dog could.
She pushed aside thoughts of Sadie. Sadie was her memory, not theirs.
“Did you really expect me to sleep well, in a deranged zoo?”
“Your species has a history of thriving in captivity. You even place your own people in captivity, a very primitive practice.”
Cora steadied an untrusting gaze at him. Was he referring to her own time in juvie? If he thought she had thrived in captivity, he was wrong. That unwanted sensation itched in her mind, and she rubbed her eyes.
The hard set to his jaw softened. “You misunderstand, Girl Two.”
“My name is Cora.”
“Just because humankind is a lesser species does not mean it has no intrinsic value. In fact, as stewards of the lesser species, we value you all the more because of your natural innocence. Your kind has not yet been corrupted by superior intellect. Your life here will be effortless. We will provide everything. All you must do is enjoy it.”
“In exchange for what?” She shook her head wearily. “Nobody goes to all the trouble of abducting us from Earth and building an entire habitat out of the good of their hearts. Is that why you took kids, instead of adults—you thought we’d be too innocent to question your motives? I have news for you. I’m not that naive.”
“We wish only for your safety and survival.”
“The Warden nearly killed me. Was that for my survival?”