Page 35 of Silent Lucidity

Four years without the luxury of privacy should have killed any modesty or shame Abella once possessed—she’d constantly been washed and dressed by attendants to meet Cullion’s standards, and had always been stripped naked in front of Cullion’s guards when she was disciplined. Nudity had become a common state of being. Outwardly, she’d maintained her dignity and pride, but now that she thought about it, she realized she’d always been ashamed beneath the surface. She’d always felt violated.

With Tenthil…it was different. She didn’t feel shame—at least not like before. Part of herwantedhim to see her,wantedhis eyes on her body, drinking in her form like he’d just crossed a desert and she was a cool, refreshing stream.

She kept her gaze on the bathroom entrance as she shoved down her pants and precariously sat down. Her relief was immense and immediate.

A few seconds after she finished, the bowl flushed on its own. Abella started; the sound hadn’t been loud, but it had been unexpected. Automatic flushing was old tech, even back on Earth, but it didn’t seem likeanythingshould’ve been functional in this place.

She twisted to look over her shoulder but couldn’t find any switches or sensors—nor could she find anything with which to clean herself.

Just as she was about to stand up, a spray of cold water blasted her crotch.

She screamed, leapt off the bowl, and turned to face it. Water continued to spray from the front edge for a second longer before ceasing.

Tenthil’s form appeared in the doorway at the edge of her vision.

Abella’s eye’s widened, and she quickly dropped her hands to cover herself. “I’m fine!”

She cringed at the water trickling down her legs.

His shadow lingered for a moment, as though he were considering whether to enter anyway, before he retreated.

“Damn thing crotch shot me,” she said, glaring at the bowl as she tugged up her pants.

She moved to the sink and looked at herself in the cloudy, cracked mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes were red from exhaustion and tears, and she’d lost weight. Raising a hand, she touched one of her slightly sunken cheeks and frowned.

She’d worried about her weight so much back home, always stressing about keeping off the extra few pounds that would’ve somehow made her unfit compared to the other dancers. Now, she’d kill to have a double cheeseburger with all the fixings, fries, and a giant chocolate milkshake.

Tenthil doesn’t seem to mind.

Abella felt her body flush. She glanced at the doorway; he was nowhere in sight.

What am I going to do about him?

His claim on her was no different than Cullion’s had been, and yet…something about the way Tenthil saidminewas wholly unlike the way her former master had asserted his ownership of her. Tenthil’s claim meant something more. He didn’t seem to see her as a thing to own, as a pet, but rather as…

Well, I guess I don’t knowwhathe sees me as.

She did know that every time he said she was his it did funny things to her, made her feel like she’d never felt before. She should’ve been resentful of him for keeping her, but instead she feltlustful—and that scared the hell out of her.

She’d been ready to risk everything, to brave an unknown city full of alien beings, on that one-in-a-billion chance that she’d make it to the human embassy, and they’d send her home. After four years as Cullion’s slave, she refused to live another day as someone’s belonging. Death was better than that.

No matter what Tenthil made her feel, she couldn’t accept his claim. Couldn’t consider her lust as anything more than a biological reaction from a sex-starved body.

Abella truly believed he meant her no harm—at least no physical harm. But he was holding her against her will and had refused to bring her to the people who’d help her get home. Her question from earlier repeated in her mind—why me?

Why was he putting himself through all this for her? Wanting to fuck her was the only evident motivation, but that seemed too shallow. It would have been much easier, much more sensible, for him to have gone to one of the city’s many brothels with a handful of credits to have sex with women far more experienced and exotic than Abella.

The thought of him with other women produced a jealous pang in her chest. So what if part of her wanted him, too? She couldn’t let that cloud her judgment. She couldn’t let that make her complacent.

Whether she liked it or not, Tenthil was all she had in this city, and he’d proved several times already that he was willing to fight to her. She’d been dragged around by Cullion for years as he met with some of the most intimidating beings she’d ever seen, and she had no doubt Tenthil was more dangerous than all of them.

Tenthil leaned into the doorway, his brow furrowed with what she could only guess was concern as his silver eyes fell upon her.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. She turned back to the sink and pressed the button near the faucet. Water flowered from the spout. It swirled in the basin, washing away the grime inside as it drained.

Cupping her hands beneath the water, she splashed her face a couple times, scrubbed away the sweat and dirt from the last day, and cleaned her teeth as best she could with her finger. When she straightened, she used her wet fingers to comb through her hair, tugging apart the knots and tangles.

Yesterday, she’d been a pampered pet—bathed and groomed, given flattering outfits befitting a dancer, living in quarters at least five times the size of her college dorm room—and she’d despised every bit of it. Now a hot shower sounded like the pinnacle of luxury.

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