Page 11 of The Alien's Private Redemption

"I don't understand," she said.

"I will explain it when you wake up," Zoric said. "But now, you must truly sleep."

I don't want to." She mumbled.

"Your exhaustion beats at me. You will be safe and I will watch over you."

She wanted to ask him what he meant but there wasn't anything in her willing to fight him.

When she woke, it was from the best sleep she could ever remember. There were no alarms or announcements to force her to her feet, only her body reminding her that it had needs.

There were no guards to watch her stumble out of her cot to the other side of the cell. Instead, there was a stool next to the bars with a stack of clothes on it.

She washed the best she could in the sink and reached out to take the new clothes.

Angela couldn't be certain but, somehow, she knew Zoric was responsible for the clothes. They were a tunic and loose pants in a soft, gray fabric. Not a prison uniform and much better than the hospital gown she had been wearing.

Was the stool what Zoric had been sitting on? Who was he that he had been allowed to break protocol like that?

What had changed?

Angela waited for the panic that unexpected change always brought but it didn't come. Instead, she felt the same way shehad when Zoric visited her. A foreign sense of calm that was more pleasant than she'd ever imagined settled in her chest.

When the door to the cellblock opened, she didn't leap to her feet to stand for an inspection. Instead, she stayed sitting on her cot, acknowledging to herself how exhausted she was. Besides, she got the feeling that the person entering would prefer her to take care of herself.

Zoric looked her over and nodded before sitting on the stool. He wore a kilt and a white button down shirt that pulled across his chest while he moved. She noted small repairs near the buttons and wondered if he had difficulty getting dressed with his claws.

"Yes," he said. "Though less since I've been able to practice."

"Practice what?" Angela was confused and slightly horrified that he'd been able to read her thoughts.

"Getting dressed. And you were projecting. I have tried to refrain from reading your thoughts since you seem to be coherent and not in crisis."

"Ah. Sorry." She blushed hard and hot.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. I am concerned that you don't seem to have many shields. It will be the first thing we start with."

"I'm confused," Angela admitted.

Zoric shifted on the stool. "I started too far into the plan. I apologize."

"There's a plan?" she asked. "Maybe you should start at the beginning."

He smiled. "Yes, I think that's a good idea. Hello, Private McBride, my name is Zoric, and I have been sent here to help the human authorities in an attempt to help heal the rift between our peoples. I am here, specifically, to see what I can do to help you."

Angela nodded. "Hello, Zoric, it's a pleasure to meet you. How and why have you been asked to help me? I'm not important enough to warrant outside intervention in my case."

"You're wrong," he said. "But I know I can't convince you of that. Instead, I'll tell you that my initial intentions have very little bearing on how we will be moving forward."

She swallowed hard. "What changed?"

"You did." His eyes held hers for several intense minutes before he looked away. He spoke slowly, obviously choosing his words carefully. "Or, actually, what happened when I walked into this facility did. Before anyone could show me to where you were being interrogated, I felt your distress, and then I felt your body start to shut down. I'm told my behavior was…aggressive."

"And then you came in and stopped the interrogation."

He shook his head. "I broke through the door and pulled you up into my arms until I could feel your flesh beneath my claws. Our bond snapped into place like someone setting a broken bone and the first thing I did was force you to breathe."

"You came looking for me," she said.

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