Badlands by Seleste deLaney

to earn your trust after what I did.”
    He froze. What was she talking about? When it hit him, he almost laughed. “I understand what happened with Zeke. Can’t say I’m happy about it, but I understand.” He did too. If she had been feeling half the turmoil he had, taking advantage of a willing alternative made perfect sense.
    She shook her head, her long hair tickling his arms and sending a shiver through him. “Most men would condemn me.”
    “I’m not most men.”
    “Perhaps that is what draws me to you.”
    “Perhaps.” His fingers still ached to touch her, but she was right. Their time would come. He picked up the shirt and held it out for her to slip into. With her incapable, he was forced to fumble his way through the buttons when all his hands wanted was to slide under the cotton.
    She shifted herself onto the bed, and he climbed in next to her. He held his breath, letting her take the lead. Only when she leaned against him did he start breathing again, his hands tracing random patterns on her skin.
    “Those…machines. They do not just randomly attack like that, do they?” Her voice was small, like a child lost in the dark afraid to attract the monsters under the bed.
    “Clockworks? No. They have masters, someone who tells them what to do.” Spencer’s mind went to Elsbeth and the puma, and he had to push the memory away. “They really terrify you, don’t they?”
    She nodded against his chest. “As a child, they fascinated me, like elaborate toys. Then something went wrong with one, and it tore up a room in the fortress, like it was looking for a way out. I never cared for them after.” She shivered, and he pulled her closer.
    His brow furrowed. What he’d seen in Ever hadn’t been dislike of the technology, it had been fear. He opened his mouth to say something, but she continued.
    “I can tolerate the early machines. But since then I never trusted those that still had a brain. Then—” her voice sank to a whisper, “—a violent man who I thought I’d killed came after me again a year or so later. He’d found someone to implant him with machines. He’d been a crazed murderer before, and someone had given him more power. He almost killed me.” Her fingers gripped her side like it hurt.
    Spencer remembered seeing a scar there, but she had so many he hadn’t given it much thought. “That would make any sane person distrust the technology.” And he was sure today’s attack wouldn’t change her mind at all.
    She gave a mirthless laugh. “About five years ago, my sister and I were camping and came across one of those abominations—severely injured, on the verge of death. I wanted to kill it. She insisted on nursing it back to health. I slept with one eye open the rest of our trip in case it attacked, but it followed her around like a pet. It loved her.” She heaved a sigh.
    “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
    “Yes, she is younger and more refined than I. As with the clockwork, she answers challenges with diplomacy, whereas I reach for a weapon. I was born a warrior just as she was born a—” She shifted uncomfortably. “Do you have siblings?”
    “One.” He inclined his head toward the tintype. “She died several years ago. We were hunting and she was attacked by a clockwork someone had set free. Henri tried to save her, but even if the transfusion hadn’t gone wrong, I don’t think she would have made it.”
    “Oh.” Ever blinked at the image. “I am very sorry for your loss. I don’t know how I would cope if my sister died.”
    He wanted to ask questions. After she’d opened this little window into her soul and shown they had something in common, even if it was hatred of the machines, he wanted more, but her breathing was slow and steady. He wasn’t about to drag her from her rest.
    “Spencer?”
    “Hmm?” Her voice had startled him. To cover, he inhaled the scent of her hair, the scent of her.
    “How did those machines find me?” She shivered against him