Page 18 of Silent Lucidity

Pressing her lips into a tight line, she swept her gaze over him as he approached. When her eyes met his, they rounded and lit up with sudden recognition.

“You,” she breathed.

Four

The world around Abella fell away; her reality unraveled, thread after thread. It washim—the scarred stranger—here in this room, right in front of her.

And that wasn’t possible.

She’d dreamed of him every night and imagined him every day since their dance at the club. Recalling those moments with the stranger had been her only solace during her punishment and her following isolation, and now he washere. But there was something different about him, something…primal.

His features seemed sharper, the scars on his cheeks stood out in stronger contrast to his pale gray skin, and his eyes, formerly bright silver, were now black pools, twin abysses that would devour her if she stared too long.

She lowered her gaze, trailing it over his dark armor and the knives strapped to his chest and belt.

He was covered inblood. She found that more unsettling than the gun in his hand or his arsenal of blades—the blood meant he’dusedthose weapons, perhaps only seconds before entering her room.

That realization paired with the intensity of his stare sent a shiver up Abella’s spine.

She took several unsteady steps backward, stopping only when her calves hit the couch behind her. “What do you want?”

The stranger lifted his empty hand and pointed his index finger at her.

“Me?” Her eyes widened as she glanced at his gun. “Look, I don’t know what I did… If…If you got into some trouble back at Twisted Nethers, I’m sorry, but Ireallydon’t think you should use that on me. It won’t fix anything.”

From her peripheral vision, she saw Belanna, Moya, and Tenel—the females Cullion tasked with her care, as though she were incapable of bathing or brushing her hair on her own—huddled in a trembling group as they inched along the wall toward the exit.

The stranger raised the gun slightly. Abella’s heart leapt into her throat, and she might have released a strained whimper. His eyes flicked to the weapon, and when they returned to hers, he shook his head. Continuing his slow advance, he slid the gun into the holster on his hip and held his hand out as though he expected her to run forward and take it.

The serving girls raced to the door. The stranger was either oblivious to them or simply didn’t care. The door clicked open, and they disappeared into the chamber beyond.

Abella was alone with the stranger.

Her brows lowered. “You…you want me to go with you?”

He offered a single nod in response.

Abella’s breath left her in a rush. She swept her gaze over him again; he towered over her, the blood on his armor and gloves glistening in the light, and a thrill swept through her. She lowered her trembling arm and her patheticweapon. After her time in the isolation chamber—a small, cramped space shrouded in total darkness—with little food, even holding up a hairbrush for more than a few seconds was too much exertion. Her battered back ached, her muscles were stiff, and her skin felt stretched thin over her narrow frame.

She’d forgotten her discomfort amidst her fear, but it all came back to her now. She was tired—but she wasn’t so tired that she’d pass up an opportunity to seize her freedom.

“You’re going to help me escape? You’re going to free me?” she asked.

Another nod. The black in his eyes receded, revealing slivers of his irises. He stepped closer, leaving barely half a meter between them, and raised his hand toward her face as though he meant to touch her. He stopped it abruptly, turning his palm to stare down at it. Dark blood clung to his glove and the tips of his claws, which protruded through the material. The corners of his mouth dipped in a slight frown.

Abella swallowed thickly. “You’re not going to…hurt me, right?”

She knew she couldn’t stop him if he wanted to, but she’d endured enough pain; and she wasn’t interested in experiencing any more.

His brow furrowed, and he curled his bloody fingers into a loose fist and shook his head. Something in his face—perhaps the light in his eyes—made Abella believe him. Hewouldn’tharm her.

“Are you going to help get me home?” she asked, her stomach clenching with a foolish flare of hope like she’d not felt in years.

His pointed ears twitched, and he snapped his head to the side. A few more seconds passed before she heard what had caught his attention—voices from the hallway beyond her door, Cullion’s the loudest amongst them. And they were increasing in volume.

“You need to hide!” she said, moving around him and advancing a few steps.

He turned to face her, his eyes once again black voids. His nostrils flared, and his upper lip curled; though the expression was not enough to reveal his teeth, there was something fierce, something almost bestial, about it.

---