Page 24 of Silent Lucidity

The stranger’s gaze lingered on her for a few more seconds before he turned and walked to the far corner, which contained what appeared to be kitchen equipment. He opened a cabinet, took out a tray, and placed it inside a microwave-like device. He pressed a few buttons, and a progress bar appeared on its display.

Abella’s anger intensified. It was terrible enough to realize she’d been kidnapped for a second time rather than saved, but to be ignored, to be so casually dismissed, on top of that was infuriating.

The only thing that had changed was the face of her owner.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted another door, this one on the wall against which the bed was positioned. She slowly moved toward it while the stranger’s back was turned

She shifted her eyes to the door on the same wall as the headboard and slowly stepped toward it while his back was turned. When she was within a few centimeters of the door, she leapt for it, curling her hand around the handle and turning it.

But the handle didn’t budge. Growling, Abella threw her weight behind it, the cords of her neck standing out as she strained against the uncooperative latch. Only after her face was heated with exertion did she notice the small control panel on the door frame, displaying a set of alien symbols.

There’d been a translator implanted in her head when she was brought to Arthos, granting her understanding of every language she’d heard during her time here, no matter how strange it sounded to her ears. But the translator did not extend to written language.

Not that it would’ve helped her in this situation—there was undoubtedly some sort of coded lock engaged on the door.

Something beeped in the kitchen. She turned her head to see the stranger approaching her, a steaming tray balanced on one hand. The aroma of hot food struck her in that moment, making her mouth water and her stomach growl.

The stranger met her gaze and pointed to the bed with his free hand.

Abella shook her head. “No.”

He dipped his chin in a shallow nod. She’d never realized how powerful so small a gesture could be—he wasn’t offering her a choice.

“I saidno.”

The stranger narrowed his eyes. Abella braced herself as he stepped forward, but he moved past her without making physical contact. He stopped at the foot of the bed, laid the tray atop it, and faced her again.

Abella turned toward him. “No. How many times do I need to say it? I want to go. Outside. Back to my people.”

He advanced on her.

“Stay away from me!” Abella raised her hands—as thoughshewould be able to ward him off—and stepped back. She bumped into a solid surface and started, glancing back to find the door behind her.

She’d never realized how quickly a person could come to hate an inanimate object.

When she looked forward, the stranger was already there.

Slipping one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees, he swept her off her feet effortlessly before she could react. He drew her against his chest; his heat radiated into her, surrounded her, despite the blanket pinned between their bodies. She struggled as he carried her toward the bed, but her resistance was fruitless—his hold, though not painful, was as strong as steel. He wasn’t going to let her go, not untilhewas ready to.

The frustrated tears welling in her eyes only made Abella angrier. She hadn’t allowed Cullion to break her, and she sure as hell wouldn’t let this stranger do so either. She was tired, weak, her head hurt like a motherfucker, and all she wanted was to finally go home, but she wasnotbroken.

She punched his shoulder as she sniffled. “I saidno. I won’t be your slave. I won’t let you-you…”

The stranger stopped and gently sat her on the edge of the bed. She swept the blanket around her sides to cover herself as he released his hold on her and stepped back, dropping into a crouch to meet her downturned gaze. His pupils had reverted to slits again, granting her full view of the mercurial silver of his irises; there was something feline about his eyes that granted them an air of mystery and danger.

“Tenthil,” he said, his voice a harsh, grating whisper.

Abella blinked, and a tear trekked down her cheek. “What?”

He lifted a hand and tapped is claws against his chest. “Tenthil.”

“Your name?”

Tenthil nodded. His lips twitched, but she couldn’t tell if they’d been shifting toward a smile or a frown before they reverted to a neutral line. He pointed to the food again.

She dropped her attention to the tray, glancing up at Tenthil uncertainly. “That’s…for me?”

With another nod, he took the edge of the tray between the pads of his forefinger and thumb and dragged it closer to her. “It will help.” He raised a hand to the back of his head, indicating the same spot her skull had struck the wall at Cullion’s.

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