"You got a fella down there in those tunnels? You somebody's sweetheart?"
Emilie might've been a master manipulator and a wonderful actress, but she couldn't disguise the brief look of some heady mixture of heartbreak and adoration that filtered over her pale, strange features. "Not a sweetheart," she corrected, because Ezra wasn't anything as inconsequential as that. He was so much more - so much that, in fact, there weren't quite words for what he was to Emilie. He was her brother, her twin, her best friend, her only friend, and her keeper all rolled up into one beautifully broken package.
"Soulmate." She didn't give any further details, lest they decide to try and use Ezra against her. There were only two things Emilie cared about in this world, and that was Prax and Ezra. If anyone touched Ezra, she would personally make sure that whoever did it was unrecognizable by the time she finished with them. There wouldn't even be pieces left.
Never mind that she hurt Ezra every single day.
Smirking, she trailed her fingertips over a nearby counter, clearly not concerned enough with these two that she felt the need to constantly keep her eyes on them. If they planned on attacking her, they would've done it already. Instead, they were chumming around, asking her questions as though she wasn't aware they were sizing her up. "And you? Any bitches stolen the dogs' hearts?"