Page 4 of Silent Lucidity

“I find your language distasteful.”

“Yeah, you find everything about me distasteful—except that I turn you profit. Now we going to talk distribution, or what?”

“Once I dismiss my pet, yes.”

“I don’t mind her.”

“You are staring as though you wish to fornicate with her.”

“I like watching her. Definitely nicer to look at than you, Cullion. One of these days, you need to finally let me at her.”

“Just when I assumed you couldn’t be fouler. Thisthingis beneath even you, Drok. An animal here to perform for our visual entertainment and little more. I would be remiss if I allowed any of my associates, even the most distasteful, to stoop to such a low.”

Drok laughed again, a richer, fuller sound. “You’re nuts. You paid a small fortune to have her, and you could earn back that investment a hundred times over if you’d rent her out from time to time. Hell, half my staff wants a go at her just to know what it’s like. She looks soft.Realsoft.”

“I will hear no more of this,” Cullion snapped. “If you cannot focus on the important matters at hand, I will—”

“Fine, fine. Send her to the lower stage. My customers appreciate a good show.”

“She ismine, Drok. Not an attraction in your house of debauchery.”

“If I didn’t know all ertraxxans were pricks, Cullion, I might believe you had a personality of your own,” Drok replied. “Send her to the stage. People will watch her, which means they’ll buy drinks and drugs a little longer. When my business prospers, yours does, too.”

“Fine.Go.”

The conversation ceased, and the other sounds flowed back into Tenthil’s awareness. The dancers on the stage ahead had been replaced by a tall, naked cren female with long, pointed ears, two three-centimeter-long tusks protruding from her mouth, and small breasts. She undulated to the quick beat, bursts of vibrant color flashing across her skin to complement her movements. Thumping bass from the dance floor below ran beneath the music from this stage, an echoing beat just out of sync with the predominant song.

If Cullion or Drok spoke again, Tenthil didn’t notice—movement on the stairs caught his attention and held it in a vise grip. The terran female descended from the upper level, her long legs emerging one at a time from beneath the fabric of her skirt with each step down. His gaze dropped to her dainty toes with their short, painted nails, visible through her sandals, and rose slowly. Golden anklets sparkled around her ankles, and her shapely calves led to toned thighs—hers were the legs of a dancer who had honed her body into a precision instrument. Grace, skill, and confidence permeated her every movement despite the demure downward angle of her chin.

His eyes moved higher still, driven on by the pounding of his heart, which had drowned out the music.

A wide, ornately adorned belt held the layers of her skirt around her hips. Her midsection was bare above the belt, a delectable span of unmarred flesh from the flare of her hips to her chest. The material covering her breasts was dark blue with a metallic glint, matching the belt, run through with subtle golden accents. A thick necklace—more like a collar than a piece of jewelry—encircled her slender neck. The lower third of her black hair, which hung freely about her shoulders and down her back, was colored a vibrant blue that gradually faded into the darker coloring.

Her face held his attention the longest. There was a familiar symmetry to her features, a configuration common to many of the intelligent beings in the Infinite City, but her face was softer, more refined, and more expressive than most creatures he’d encountered.

The slight downturn of her full, pink lips conveyed a sadness so simultaneously powerful and subtle that it pierced his chest. Her averted gaze did not hide the untold emotion sparkling within the frames of her dark lashes.

Tenthil watched as she walked around the middle tier toward the large, central staircase leading down to the lower level. She didn’t look up, though many of the people around her stared while she passed. Oddly, most everyone who noticed her stepped out of her path, a few of them casting worried glances to nearby security guards. Legs moving of their own accord, Tenthil followed her. He felt as though he were floating through the emptiness of the Void, hearing nothing but his own heartbeat, seeing nothing but the terran.

The female continued to the lower floor. Tenthil halted at the top of the stairs as the crowd, even those caught in the deep rhythms of drink, drugs, and song, parted for the terran. No one seemed willing to come within arm’s reach of her. Vague, half-formed speculations tumbled through the back of Tenthil’s mind, but he was too distracted to address them.

Who was this female? Did her kind possess some sort of psychic power he wasn’t aware of that bewitched those around them?

How had merely looking at her sparked these reactions within him?

Keeping her gaze downcast, the terran strode toward the stage. Her footfalls left glowing patches on the floor—part of the club’s special effects, undoubtedly—that lingered for several seconds before fading; only as the lights faded did the crowd fill in her wake. The boldness and surety of her stride were at odds with her averted gaze and the mournful expression she’d worn as she’d passed Tenthil. That only intrigued him further; outwardly, she was the sum of conflicting parts that shouldn’t have fit together.

And he wanted her like he’d wanted nothing else before.

The terran reached the edge of the stage and, without sacrificing any momentum, pulled herself atop it. The nearby guards made no move to stop her—they didn’t so much as cast her a fleeting glance. She walked along the stage’s length, pausing only to slip off her sandals. Her expression had hardened, leaving only a glimmer of underlying sorrow in her eyes; she now wore the look of a professional preparing to act, of a hunter surveying the killing ground.

Tenthil leaned forward as though that tiny movement could somehow bring him close enough to smell her, to touch her.

She moved to the center of the stage and turned her back to the crowd. Tenthil barely noticed the hush that had fallen over the place; though the gentle din of conversation continued all around, it was softened by the anticipatory energy thrumming through the air.

Tenthil’s legs itched with the urge to move closer, but he held himself in place at the top of the steps. He didn’t want to take his eyes off her for even an instant.

The terran turned her head toward the booth from which a four-eyed, violet-skinned valzin controlled the music and nodded once.

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