Page 6 of Dark Rebel's Reckoning

Kyra had never been on a plane—at least not that she remembered—but she'd seen first-class fully reclining seats in movies and commercials.

As a rustle on her left drew her attention, she turned as stealthily as she could to see who was making the noise and was relieved to see a woman. She was holding up a mobile phone and was either reading or watching something. Carefully, Kyra shifted to get a better look, and the woman turned to face her.

When their eyes met, Kyra's heart skipped a beat. The woman's eyes were identical to her own—the same amber-brown hue with flecks of gold swirling around the irises. It was like looking in the mirror.

A wave of dizziness threatened to pull her under, but she refused to surrender to it, realizing that she'd seen those eyes before and had reacted the same way as she was now.

"Good morning." The woman smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Kyra licked her parched lips. "Who are you?" Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

"My name is Jasmine." The woman reached into a compartment between their seats and pulled out a bottle of water. "You must be thirsty." She offered it to her.

"I am." Kyra tried to lift herself to a sitting position, but it was nearly impossible with the blanket holding her imprisoned and the difficulty of maneuvering on the narrow platform.

"Hold on," Jasmine said. "I'll lift the seat so you'll be more comfortable." She pressed a digital display, and the seat began to retreat and lift simultaneously, stopping when the back was elevated to a semi-reclining position. She then twisted the capoff and handed the bottle to Kyra again. "Do you think you can hold it?"

Freeing one arm out of the blanket, Kyra was surprised to find that she had someone's sweater on. The sleeve was so long that a large section dangled over her hand.

"Let me help you with that." Jasmine put the bottle on the platform dividing their seats and reached over. She folded the long sleeve several times until it cleared Kyra's wrist. "That's better." She handed her the water once more.

Kyra's hand shook slightly as she closed her palm over the smooth plastic and brought the bottle to her lips. Some of the water spilled over her chin, but she couldn't care less, and once she took her first sip, she nearly moaned in relief and kept drinking until Jasmine's hand landed on the bottle, and she tugged it away.

"You shouldn't drink that much all at once. You'll feel nauseous. Give it a few moments to settle in your stomach."

There was logic in Jasmine's words, but Kyra still eyed the remaining water with coveting eyes. "Is there anything to eat?"

The smile that bloomed on Jasmine's face was a sight to behold. "You seem much better, and the answer is yes. I'll warm up a meal for you."

"I'll do it." A man who was sitting across the aisle pushed to his feet.

He seemed familiar, and Kyra realized that he'd been the one who had carried her out of the cell and then sat with her in his arms during the helicopter ride, but he wasn't the one who'd given her his sweater.

The garment smelled of gunpowder, blood, and sweat, but underneath it all was a pleasing male scent, which was a very odd thing for her to register.

Kyra hadn't met any males whose smell, or anything else about them, had appealed to her, not even her fellow rebel fighters.

Oh, dear God. They must think I'm dead!She had to find a way to let her comrades know she was alive.

Jasmine frowned. "What's wrong?"

Kyra opened her mouth, intending to say that she needed to call her friends, when it suddenly occurred to her that she didn't know who these people were and whether she could trust them. They'd saved her, and she also remembered now that they'd saved Twelve as well, but she didn't know why, and what they were planning to do with them. It was much more important not to endanger her friends than to let them know that she was okay.

"I'm confused and uncertain. Why do we have the same eyes, Jasmine? Are we related?"

Another beautiful smile illuminated Jasmine's face. "We are. I'm your daughter."

Kyra's heart slammed so hard against her ribs that her next breath stuttered, and a blackness nipped at the corners of her vision, threatening to pull her under.

Mydaughter?She nearly caved to the overwhelming downward swirl, but she fought to stay awake, clenching the blanket in her fists to anchor herself.

"Impossible," she finally managed to say. "I would have remembered having a child."

Jasmine's face fell. "You don't remember being married and giving birth to me?"

She had a husband?

"I don't remember anything before the asylum," Kyra whispered. "But I dreamt of a little girl with dark hair and brown eyes with flakes of gold swirling in the irises. I thought I was dreaming of myself as a girl or of a sister or a cousin who looked a lot like me. I never dared to even entertain the thought that she could be my child." She swallowed. "I thought I couldn't have children."

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