Page 95 of Silent Lucidity

As soon as they were inside the safehouse with the door closed, Abella threw herself against Tenthil, wrapping her arms around him. He stumbled backward into the door as he caught her in his embrace, and her hands hit the metal behind him, but she didn’t register the pain, didn’t care. She rested her cheek against his chest.

They had escaped the darkness and were together again. That was all that mattered.

She inhaled deeply, relishing his familiar scent despite it being layered with the smells of blood, smoke, and sweat. “Is it really over?”

He smoothed a palm down her hair. “Yes.”

“They won’t come after us anymore?”

“They won’t. The Master and his second are gone, and we have reclaimed our lives.”

“What was he, Tenthil? It was…it was like he was inside me. I couldn’t stop him, couldn’t push him out. He knew my past, my thoughts, my desires, everything about us.” A shudder wracked her as a phantom of the Master’s icy presence passed through her mind. Even the memory of his intrusion was almost too much to bear; it felt like insects clawing around in her skull.

“He was a kal’zik,” he replied, voice weakening as he spoke, “one of the Consortium races. They are ancient and powerful. I know little beyond that.”

Abella tilted her head back and looked up at him. His pale gray skin was splattered with blood of various hues, but one color stood out more than the rest—the crimson of Tenthil’s blood. She shifted an arm to lightly brush her fingertips beneath the scar on his right cheek, part of which—closest to the corner of his mouth—looked like it had been freshly sealed.

She’d seem the remains of the assassins Tenthil had fought in the temple, had seen the odds he’d defied to rescue her. The sight had numbed her; when the need arose, he was more a force of nature than a man, unstoppable and merciless. Nothing between him and his goal would escape unscathed.

Now, without any doubts, she understood just how strong he was, just how dangerous…and just how vulnerable.

I could have lost him.

Stepping back, Abella took his hands and led him farther into the room. She stopped him beside the bed and removed his gunbelt and weapons, carefully setting them on the nearby table, before setting to work on his armor. She let the blood-splattered plates fall to floor. Her gaze rose to his as she unfastened his shirt, pushed it down his shoulders, and slid it gently off his arms.

Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the damage wrought to his body.

Dark bruises mottled his skin in several places—the worst of them on his side and shoulders—and there was a blackened wound on his right forearm similar to the one he’d received fighting the acolytes in the alleyway several days before. His face showed more signs of bruising, and, now that she was looking closely, sheknewhe’d hastily bandaged his cheek scar, which had clearly split open at some point.

“Oh, Tenthil,” she whispered, lightly running her fingers over the bruises on his chest. She didn’t know what he would have looked like were he not wearing armor during the fighting—she didn’t even want to imagine. Hot tears fell down her cheeks.

He moved a hand to her face and wiped away the moisture with the back of his finger; something in his hand cracked as he moved his wrist.

She grabbed his forearm. “Stop. Please stop. Just…tell me what to do to help you.”

The left corner of his mouth lifted in a small, lopsided smile. “Love me.”

Abella stared up at him, jaw hanging open, for several seconds. “But you’rehurt! You can’t really want to…to…”

He chuckled and shook his head, mirth dancing in his silver eyes like she’d never seen. “Need a few hours to heal beforethat. Just need your love now. And a shower.”

Her cheeks heated, and—despite their situation, despite all they’d just gone through—arousal bloomed within her core. Something about the look in his eyes and the sound of his laughter deeply affected her. She returned the smile. “I can do that.”

After guiding him to sit on the bed, she knelt, removed his boots, and set them aside. She helped him remove his remaining clothing; his nakedness only revealed more of the damage he’d suffered. Her heart ached.

The light touch of his knuckles against her cheek brought Abella’s attention back to his face.

“You had the worst of it,” he said softly.

“How could you possibly think what I had was worse? Look at you, Tenthil. You’re covered in cuts, bruises, and blood.”

“Most of the blood isn’t mine.”

“That doesn’t change anything!”

Tenthil cupped her face, brushing loose strands of her hair back toward her ears. “My body will heal. Already is. But what he did to you…” He frowned and gently tapped the pad of his finger against her temple. “This doesn’t heal as easily. I have carried those scars for years. They are the worst of them all.”

Abella covered his hands with hers, briefly turned her face to kiss his palm, and closed her eyes as she leaned into his touch. His presence was a balm to her soul; she knew, in time, her scars from the Master would fade.

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