Page 94 of Shielded Heart

Drakkal swept his gaze over her, and his eyes softened. He lowered his hand and stepped back. “He’s been in his workshop all day. Won’t answer anyone, won’t let me in. Get in there and give him a kick in the ass for me.”

Samantha’s brows fell as she glanced past Drakkal, toward the workshop. Arcanthus had been fine that morning. “What happened?”

Drakkal shrugged. “He won’t talk to me. Usually, I want nothing more than for him to shut up. When he actually does, though… Something’s wrong. Something bad. He gets like this every now and then, and there’s always something behind it, but it can take days to get him to tell me what’s happening.”

Her stomach clenched, but it had nothing to do with hunger. Whatever was tormenting Arcanthus, he had locked himself away, was suffering alone. Momentary doubt flashed through her mind; would he even see her? Would he let her in?

“I’ll do what I can,” she said.

“I know.” Drakkal nodded and walked away, slowing briefly to add, “Find me if he doesn’t let you in, and we’ll just break down a door.”

The corners of Sam’s mouth rose in faint smile. “Drakkal? Thank you.”

He grunted and offered a wave as he strode down the hallway.

Samantha turned away from the azhera to face toward Arc’s workshop again, and her smile faded. She hurried down the hallway, pushed onward by her need to see him, to hear him, to know he was okay. Something twisted inside her—a nagging fear that something was terribly wrong.

She reached the door at the end of the corridor and raised her hand, pressing the call button on the wall console. There was no answer. She waited a moment before pressing it again, then once more.

She was about to press it a fourth time when Arc’s voice came through the intercom.

“Leave!”

Samantha flinched.

At least he’s alive in there.

She pressed the button again.

“Drakkal, I am not in the—”

“It’s Samantha, Arc.”

The intercom went silent, but she knew it was still on.

“Please let me in,” she said gently.

Several more seconds of silence stretched between them—long enough that she began to doubt whether he would open the door. The tightness in her chest intensified, approaching the point at which she feared she’d no longer be able to draw breath.

The door slid open without another word from him. Samantha released a shaky breath and immediately filled her lungs with fresh air, steeling herself for whatever awaited beyond the threshold.

She stepped inside, and the door closed behind her.

The workshop’s lights were turned down, leaving only the faintest red glow on the walls—the sort of light that would’ve been cast by a fire that had burned down to embers. The creatures inside the large tanks were reduced to dark, unidentifiable shapes, and the whole room was cast in a layer of obscuring shadow that gave it a gloomy air.

Arcanthus was sprawled on the center of one of the couches, his robe open and loose, hisqaldim. He held an open bottle ofguroshin one hand. The gloom made his expression difficult to discern, but she knew his eyes were upon her by their yellow light.

“How is it you look so delectable even in the dark, little terran?” he asked, but there was something different about his voice, something missing from it—his usual playful energy seemed forced.

Oh, Arc…

Samantha frowned as she approached the couch. She stopped in front of it, dipped her chin, and scanned the empty bottles littering the floor. The tip of Arcanthus’s tail flicked, bumping one of the bottles and sending it rolling toward her foot; she toed it aside.

Stepping closer to him, Sam reached down and plucked the drink out of his hand.

“I was saving that one for you, anyway,” he said, offering her a flash of his white fangs. The light of that smile didn’t reflect in his eyes.

After placing theguroshon the floor—well beyond his reach—Sam turned back to him. She leaned forward and cupped his face, looking into his eyes. “Are you drunk?”

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