Page 33 of Silent Lucidity

Tenthil came to a stop immediately behind Abella. Her attention remained on the control. She drew in a deep breath and moved her hand forward.

He caught her wrist before her finger touched the button. She gasped, body tensing as he spun her around to face him. He dropped his right hand over hers, preventing her from drawing the blaster any farther—she already had it halfway out of the holster.

She lacked training, but she possessed natural speed and instincts that could be honed into something dangerous, given the opportunity. She was the sort of being in which the Master might have chosen toinvest.

He pried the blaster from her grip and tossed it aside. Before she could pull away, Tenthil released her hand to loop his arm around her waist and pull her close. She bared her teeth and struggled within his hold as he wrestled the backpack off her shoulders, dropping it at their feet once it was free.

“Let go of me!” Abella kicked his shin with her boot, reached up, and grabbed a fistful of his hair. She yanked on it.

Tenthil snarled and grasped her wrist, pressing his thumb, perhaps too harshly, against the tendons between the bones of her forearm. She cried out and loosened her hold on his hair. He shoved aside the pang of guilt that struck his chest—it wasn’t enough to overpower the excitement thrumming through him in response to her fight—and spun her around again so her back was against his chest.

She screamed. The sound was high-pitched, filled with fury, frustration, pain, and only a hint of fear.

He banded an arm around her torso, trapping her arms against her sides, and clamped his other hand over her mouth.

Abella thrashed against him, clearly unwilling to give up her resistance despite its futility.

He said her name. She responded by using what little freedom her arm had to punch him in the groin.

Tenthil grunted; the pain coalesced low in his belly, but his entire body tensed for a moment, tightening his hold on her rather than easing it.

Growling, he lifted her off her feet and stepped forward, forcing her against the door with his body. He caught both her wrists, raised them over her head, and pinned her hands to the door. When she tried to kick again, he caught her leg between his knees and twisted his hips away from her, moving her primary target out of reach.

“Fuck you!” she spat. “You’re just like him! Just let me go. I just…I j-just w-want to go.”

He pressed his cheek to her hair, positioning his mouth near her ear. “Go where?”

“Home. I want to go h-home.” She sniffled, her back shuddering against his chest as she sucked in an unsteady breath. “Someone out there can help me, someone—”

“No oneout there will help you,” he said. “They will buy you, sell you, hurt you,killyou. Anything but help.”

“There are other humans out there! A terran embassy. I heard people talking about it in one of the clubs Cullion took me to. The embassy would help me. You could take me to them.Please.”

Tenthil clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. “No.”

“Why?” Her voice shattered, breaking under her anguish, and her body trembled against his. “Why are you doing this?”

Tenthil pressed himself more firmly against her as though that could ease her pain—even though he was its current cause. “Only I can protect you. We are hunted.”

He brushed his nose over her hair, drawing in her scent; even this place couldn’t overpower it.

“But if it’s an embassy, they—”

“You aremine,” he growled. The thought of anyone taking her from him roused that uncontrollable fire inside Tenthil, making his fingers itch with the urge to lengthen his claws and draw blood.

“I’m not yours.”

“You are.” He brushed his lips over the soft skin of her neck, making sure to keep the sweet venom from overflowing his mouth. His balls ached not because of her blow but due to desire—the drive to lay his claim on her, to mate with her, grew with each passing second, reaching new heights of urgency. He shifted his hips forward, pressing his pelvis against her back, and he knew she felt his need by the soft gasp that escaped her parted lips. “You are mine, Abella, and I must keep you safe. Iwill.”

“I’m not a belonging, a thing, apet.” Despite the defiance in Abella’s words, her voice was small, and her body eased.

“No,” Tenthil said, “but youaremine.”

He released her wrists and slid his palms down her arms, wishing his they were gliding over her skin instead of the combat suit. Gritting his teeth against his need, he placed his hands on her hips and guided her away from the door, stepping toward the couch. She walked with his guidance, though she lacked her usual grace and confidence. He tightened his grip and stilled her when she moved to climb back onto the sofa.

She looked back at him with tired, narrowed eyes. “What?”

With the toe of his boot, he spread the blankets on the floor, widening his pallet. He drew her down with him as he lay on his side. Wrapping his arms around her, he tucked her body against his, back to front, and pressed his face into her hair. He inhaled deeply, and something in his chest rumbled contently. Despite her stiffness, she fit against him perfectly.

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