Page 7 of Noah

He was alone so perhaps he was unaware of how menacing he looked.

Her heart slowed as she mentally talked herself down and tried to stay calm.

Her mind ran through what she knew about Numbers to help her relax. She didn’t know much about Numbers.

It took her a while to stop shaking after she repeated a list of things. In addition to their exceptional sense of smell, they were stronger than humans—as he had proven repeatedly—and they had some animalistic traits.

In a flash, her eyes swept over his hands and fangs. His eyes hadn’t completely returned to human yet.

Like everyone else, she understood the news story in its most basic form. She was just fourteen years old at the time. Now, at the age of twenty, she had to endure the horrors of scientists and investors still working behind the scenes.

She muttered, “I don’t understand.”

Immediately after stroking her throat, he made a strangled sound. Her eyebrows rose as she looked at him.

Once again, he looked at her lips, but this time he didn’t seem angry. He extended his hands.

The claw was inches from her lips when he saw her eyes widen. His reaction to her flinching was not anger but confusion. His eyebrows puckered as he thought hard, and she watched as his claw slipped back slowly, and he grew rigid as if the idea of being unarmed was a terrible thing.

He must know he could overpower her.

“Noah,” he said tightly, touching her lips with one hand while holding her throat. He stared at her intently, shaking her a bit when she did not respond.

His grip on her throat was just this side of too tight, and she knew he wanted her to say something. His hand on her lips was a reminder that he was in control and that she needed to answer him.

She could feel his stare and knew he was waiting for her to respond. She shuddered as his touch sent a chill up her spine, her throat tightening as his gaze pierced her soul.

“Noah. Is that your name?” Her voice vibrated against his palm on her neck when she spoke.

Closing his eyes and sighing, he let his body fall against hers, bringing out a rumbling sound in his chest. She wanted to protest, but his heat kept her shivers at bay and prevented the cold from shocking her.

“Noah,” he whispered against her neck.

He trailed off, and it sounded like he pronounced it no, followed by a mangled eight.

He didn’t have a real name. They had mashed his name into a number.

She repeated, “Noah.”

He shuddered as she spoke and buried his face in her neck and hair. Biting her lip, she remained motionless.

It wasn’t that Noah was hurting her he was being cautious. Had her bruises stopped him from being as rough as before?

She frowned as the lights flickered off. What time was it?

Her interview was in the afternoon, but she passed out between then and now. Her eyes flickered around the room, searching for any glowing or blinking red lights that might show they were being watched.

Lips pursed, she searched but couldn’t find anything.

Did they leave Noah unsupervised in his room?

She almost laughed at the absurdity of being watched twenty-four hours a day, as her heartbeat accelerated.

Confined to a cage or room or whatever they wanted to call it; did it matter? It made no difference how she looked at it because, in the end, it was a jail.

A cage was a cage, was a cage.

It was dark and she was struggling to keep it together.

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