Page 49 of Silent Lucidity

Tenthil leaned closer to her, tilting his chin down. “I’d be yelling if I could, Abella.Relax.”

Her hands tensed, exerting pressure against him for a few seconds before she finally relaxed. He resumed his examination, prodding around the base of her skull and the top of her spine. Abella’s breaths were quick and warm against his throat. Despite everything, he felt the stirrings of arousal in his blood, and his cock throbbed. His body’s reaction only served to remind him that he’d not yet fully claimed her, making him angrier.

Something small, solid, and loose beneath her skin caught his attention, thankfully distracting him from his agitation. He moved his thumb over the spot in a little circle. The object rocked beneath his touch.

Tenthil lowered his hands and stepped back from her. He drew his knife, plucked a sanitizing wipe from his small cache of medical supplies, and used it to clean the blood off the blade. “Turn around.”

Her eyes rounded, and she flattened herself against the wall behind her. “What are you doing?”

“It has to come out.”

“You’re going to cut me open?” Fear crept back into her eyes.

“Turn around,” he repeated. Nausea added itself to the growing list of things he was feeling; the thought of doing her harm made him ill, but ithadto be done. He couldn’t keep her safe while they were being tracked. Even Tenthil had limits. Ceaseless attacks from Order assassins would wear him down before long, and then Abella would be defenseless.

Her lower lip trembled, but she turned, giving him her back.

“Hair up,” he said.

She gathered her hair, folded it up, and held it atop her head. Leaning forward, she tipped her forehead against the wall. “I can do this,” she whispered. “I took Cullion’s punishment for years. I can do this.”

Tenthil stepped forward and raised his hands to her neck. Gentle prodding with his fingers located the object beneath her skin again, and he settled the point of the blade beneath it.

He drew in a disturbingly shaky breath. “The pain will pass,” he rasped.

He sank the knife into her skin. Red blood welled from the wound, and Abella gasped, muscles tensing. She hissed as he pressed the blade deeper. In his mind’s eye, he tried to recall the detailed holograms of terran anatomy he’d been forced to study, and he was suddenly fearful all over again—what ifhedid significant harm to her? What if he was making a mistake?

Clenching his jaw, he continued his work. Abella cried out when the blade lightly scraped bone. Tenthil’s nostrils flared; her scent was strong, but it was overlaid by the smell of her blood. The combination did strange things to him—he wanted to tend to her wound, rut her, and protect her all at once. He fought back the tumultuous instincts as best he could.

Gently, he angled the blade and used it like a lever to lift the object from its place. It emerged from the cut a moment later, a tiny, crimson-stained tristeel orb with a delicate-looking bundle of thin tendrils on one side. Keeping the knife in place, he pinched the orb between the claws of forefinger and thumb and pulled. The root-like wires went taut for a moment, clinging to whatever points they were attached to inside, before coming free.

Abella released a muffled cry, her body sagging as her knees buckled. Tenthil withdrew the knife and slid a leg forward, pinning her to the wall with his hip before she fell farther. Fresh blood flowed from her wound.

“Almost done,” he said as soothingly as his broken voice allowed. He tossed the tracker aside, adjusted his hold on the knife, and plucked a bandage from his belt. Using both hands, he settled the bandage over her wound.

It activated quickly, closing the cut as it faded into her skin.

Tenthil covered the hand she had fisted in her hair with his own, loosening her hold and guiding it down. He wiped the blade of his knife clean on his pants and sheathed it before combing the fingers of his free hand through her tangled hair, smoothing it back down.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

Abella nodded, straightening her legs. She sniffled, raised an arm to wipe her eyes, and turned to face him when he shifted backward.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and tipped his forehead against hers. He just wanted to hold her against him and never let go, to let the city around them, the world, theuniverse, fall away into nothingness, leaving only the two of them.

“We need to go,” he said softly.

“Okay.”

Slipping his arm around her shoulders once again, he drew her against his uninjured side and continued along the alley. He slowly increased their pace, easing her toward greater speed, mindful of both her needs and the danger they were in.

Luck was the only reason he hadn’t lost her, and he had no intention of relying upon it again.

* * *

Tenthil turnedhis head to glance behind them as he stopped at the entry door. The journey back into the Bowels had been a long one; his muscles ached, and his wounded ribs throbbed, but he hadn’t stopped. Abella had remained at his side throughout, silent but for the occasional sniffles and sobs. Hearing those sounds from her crushed Tenthil’s heart, but he couldn’t tend to her until they were somewhere safe.

Satisfied they were alone, he lifted the small, disc-shaped chip in his hand and held it up to the reader beside the door. After a moment, the door beeped and slid open. Tenthil guided Abella inside and finally released her. She stepped away from him slowly, as though in a daze.

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