Page 40 of The Edge of Dawn

But she couldn’t allow herself to get stuck in this reverie. She couldn’t allow herself to fall under the spell of a complete stranger.

Especially when he was an alien. He was going to take her away, and she had no choice in the matter. She hated that it had come to this—her entire life upended and dismantled by something she could barely comprehend—but she had to accept that there were forces out there that were far beyond her understanding and control.

He was one of them.

And right now, his touch was everything.

Reluctance morphed into burning curiosity.

Suddenly, everything changed.

She had to see him.

So she turned around, disrupting his firm, unyielding touch against her neck, which had the strangest way of making her feel calm.

She shouldn’t be finding solace under such lethal hands, but here she was.

Already too far gone.

So she turned.

And opened her eyes.

And found herself face-to-face with the alien from her dreams.

He wrapped her in a cone of blissful silence, free from incoherent voices.

He radiated dark, calm energy. It reminded her of a bottomless pond, the sort that would give you existential jitters if you crossed over its cold, black surface.

He was everything she’d imagined him to be, but in real life, his presence was a thousand times more intense.

Bright sunlight streamed down from the mineshaft’s entrance, diluting the shadows and giving form to his silvery features.

There was nothing soft or delicate about him. Chiseled jaw, strong nose, broad forehead. Angular features that were handsome in a rugged way.

And unearthly. Humanoid, but definitely not human. Eyes of pure obsidian: sclera and iris and all, perfect gleaming orbs that saw everything and nothing.

Her breath caught.

For a moment, she forgot to be afraid. Fascination took over.

“Dragek the Kordolian,” she whispered, his name dancing dangerously across her tongue like a forbidden word. “All this time, I didn’t dare believe that someone like you could exist. But now you’re here.”

“Indeed.”

“What do you really want with me?”

His hands were still on her, both thumbs applying pressure to a spot on either side at the base of her neck. But when she stiffened—more in shock than anything else—he abruptly released her and stepped back.

Without thinking, she lamented the loss of his touch. The way he’d held onto her—he’d been the anchor, and she, the ship in the storm.

Plus, his touch was blessedly cool against her feverish anxiety. The blazing heat aboveground was finally starting to seep into the mine, and she was starting to sweat.

Did Kordolians ever sweat?

He didn’t look like butter could even melt in his mouth.

He gave her a look: an unseeing, all-seeing, goosebumps-rippling-all-over look. “I don’t know what I want with you—yet. But you’re far too valuable for me to leave you here.”

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