Her mouth opened and then closed again. Her ears went pink at the tips, which was the closest thing Blair Davenport had to a confession.
"I check the boards every hour," she said. "That's called diligence."
"Sure it is. So what's our ranking right now?"
"Fourth," she said through her teeth, "for now, and only until Sapphire runs their next gate."
"Fourth means top five, Blair."
"I know what fourth means. I'm not one of your lottery idiots who needs a spreadsheet to count."
She turned to leave, which was her move every time a conversation got close to anything real. I didn't grab her. I'd learned that grabbing Blair Davenport led to second-degree burns and lectures about personal space. I just said her name once, low and level, and she stopped walking like I'd thrown a rope around her ankle.
"You told me in the cave you'd make me wear a collar," I said. "You had a whole list, and you said some of those things out loud while your thigh was between my legs."
