Page 83 of Silent Lucidity

There were places nearby where they could rent a room without an ID scan; was it worth the risk to go to one of them, or could he withstand the discomfort and consuming desire until they made it back to the safehouse in the Bowels?

Am I actually considering risking my mate’s safety in favor of sex?

With that thought, Tenthil realized his mistake—he’d allowed himself to become distracted.

That realization came too late.

Had he been paying even a modicum of attention, Tenthil would’ve noticed the tralix far sooner, but his distraction had him looking up only a moment before the huge being plowed into him and Abella. Despite Tenthil’s enhanced strength, the tralix’s weight and momentum were too great; he’d been afforded no time to brace himself for the impact. Abella was knocked out of Tenthil’s hold, and he stumbled aside, catching his balance only after coming down hard on one knee. The tralix grunted to an abrupt halt.

Tenthil shoved up to his feet and turned toward Abella, but he was met only by the wall of mottled blue and green flesh that was the tralix.

“Watch where you’re walking, you little skrudge!” the tralix boomed.

Tenthil moved to step around the burly being; he needed to know if Abella was all right. She was a piece of delicate blown glass compared to the rough-hewn boulder that was the tralix. But the tralix blocked Tenthil’s path.

“Talking to you, worm.” The tralix thrust a thick, blunt-tipped finger into Tenthil’s shoulder, producing a distant pulse of pain.

Rage reignited deep inside Tenthil, a low, smoldering flame that only needed a little fanning to become a firestorm. He shifted his direction to move around the tralix’s other side. Abella was his only concern at that moment; he needed to touch her, to hold her, to soother her and blanket her in the protection of his body and his bioelectrical field. He was aware that the crowd had thinned immediately around himself and the tralix, and he knew instinctually what was happening—they wanted to see a tralix tear someone apart—but he couldn’t waste time with that.

“Abella,” Tenthil called.

“You look atmewhen I’m talking to you,” the tralix growled. He stepped forward, simultaneously jabbing his finger at Tenthil. “I’m the only thi—”

Tenthil slammed his forearm into the tralix’s with enough force to completely divert the big being’s momentum. The tralix staggered to the side, his own weight upsetting his balance enough to send him crashing to the ground with a startled grunt.

Tenthil’s gaze darted to the space that had been blocked from his view by the tralix, the spot where Abella should have been—knocked down, undoubtedly, but hopefully unhurt.

His mind could not, therefore, reconcile what his eyes perceived. There was nothing there apart from the dirty street and a few startled onlookers. No Abella.

No Abella.

Impossible, paralyzing cold filled Tenthil’s veins, and everything around him—the tralix, the crowd, the lights, buildings, and sounds—was swallowed for a few moments by impenetrable blackness. Everything but the empty spot on the street where she should’ve been.

In his heart, he knew what this was.

The touch of the Void.

Hand of the Master.

Awareness rushed back to him. Tenthil’s body tingled with prickling points of heat in the wake of the receding cold. He raised his eyes and swept his gaze across the crowd, desperate for some sign of Abella, foranysign of her, but there were only leering alien faces—the infinite eyes of infinite enemies. All that remained of Abella was a wisp of her scent, weak and assailed by a thousand other smells.

Each rapid beat of Tenthil’s heart was like an explosion inside his chest, resonating in his ribcage, and despite his quick, ragged breaths, he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. The heat on his skin intensified.

No Abella.

“Easiest credits I ever made,” said the tralix.

Tenthil glanced over his shoulder to see the tralix push himself onto his feet. The huge being tilted his head to the side—its range of movement limited by his massive shoulder and short, thick neck—producing a low crack.

The tralix turned to face Tenthil, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. He lifted his arm and flicked his wrist dismissively. “Walk along. They ain’t paying me extra to hurt you.”

They…

No. Him.

Dashing forward, Tenthil caught the tralix’s extended wrist with both hands. He twisted the limb as he continued past the tralix, throwing his full weight and strength into the maneuver. When he slid to a stop, he was behind his foe, with the tralix’s huge arm bent at an awkward, backward angle.

The tralix cried out, and his muscles flexed. If given the opportunity to regain his composure, the tralix potentially possessed the strength to break Tenthil’s hold.

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