Page 11 of Shielded Heart 1
Despite that thrill, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “If it’s so unsafe, then why…why would the UTFpayto send me here?”
He shrugged. “Who can guess at the motives ofgovernmental organizations?” His gaze dipped, roving over her from head to toe. “Now answer honestly—are you hurt?”
Sam tugged her hand free from his. “Just a few more scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious…thanks to you. Again.”
He lifted his now empty hand and swept back a few strands of his straight, black hair, tucking them behind his pointed ear. “As understandably reluctant as you must be to trust anyone in Arthos right now, I insist on walking you home. Your day has been difficult, I imagine, and I’d like to spare you further terrible experiences. This city isn’t all bad, but it seems you’ve stumbled into a lot of it, anyway.”
Samantha looked at the ground; her hair fell into her face, shielding the tears welling in her eyes. She tugged her sleeves down to cover her wounded palms and curled her fingers into the fabric.
This city isn’t all bad.
Alkorin was the first good she’d experienced in the Infinite City, and it wasn’t quite enough to change how weak, defeated, and miserable she felt. Her entire body felt like one big bruise; that was a sadly familiar sensation, one she’d hoped to never feel again. She wished she could just disappear, wished she could leave all this suffering behind.
Even if she couldn’t bring herself to believe there was more good to be found out there, Alkorin wasright about one thing—she didn’t trust anyone here. She had a neighbor who wanted to do questionable things to her, she had been snubbed, looked down upon, and nearly killed. And then there was whatever these thugs had wanted to do. Sam didn’t want to even spend the mental energy to speculate.
Alkorin was it; a single shining beacon of kindness in the vast darkness.
He’d saved her twice in a single evening—twice in anhour. Either time, he could’ve easily walked away, could’ve decidedshe wasn’t worth the effort and just walked on. But, despite the risk to himself, he’d chosen to help her.
Even if he hadn’t saved her twice, she would’ve found herself wantingto trust him—he had that smooth, friendly demeanor, and a casually arrogant air that was surprisingly disarming. She felt safe standing here with him. And, if he hadn’t been there for her today…
It was confirmation of her weakness, of just how ill-prepared she was for life in Arthos. She’d come here with nothing and no one; how could she have thought she’d survive on her own? How could she have thought she’d be safe? She couldn’t even leave her apartment without psyching herself up. And apparently being a terran made her some kind of exotic attraction.
Samantha sniffled loudly. Tears streaked down her cheeks and fell to the concrete beneath her feet.
Through the curtain of her hair, she saw Alkorin lift his hands to waist level and hesitate, fingers partly bent. She couldn’t blame him—she was a mess, and she’d have been hesitant in his position, too. This was the moment when he’d lower his hands, back away, and leave her alone and crying in the middle of an alien street. That’s how most people back on Earth had acted—like they couldn’t see her bruises, her black eyes, her split lips. They either ignored her because they didn’t want to get involved, or they just turned up their noses and walked on likeshehad been the bad one. Like she’d asked for what she had received.
She drew in a shuddering breath when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, cradling the back of her head with one of his hands. Her cheek settled against his warm chest, and her tears flowed over his muscled torso and onto his silken robe. Alkorin didn’t seem to care.
“You’re all right, Samantha,” he said, his voice soft. “I have you.”
Samantha squeezed her eyes shut, slipped her arms around his waist, and slid her hands up his back, clutching him as though he were her lifeline. Fresh, hot tears spilled down her face.
When was the last time someone had held her and told her everything would be okay? Her father had died five years ago, but he’d always had a hard time showing physical affection. Her elderly grandmother—who’d passed away two years before Samantha’s father—had been the only one to regularly hug her.
She breathed in, and Alkorin’s heady scent filled her nose. She pretended that was all she could smell, that his warmth was all she could feel, that his gentle voice was all she could hear.
Sam remained against Alkorin, holding him close—beingheldclose—until her crying eased. Embarrassment and exhaustion quickly swept in.
What am Idoing?
She abruptly stepped back, horrified to see what her tears had wrought. Alkorin’s robe was soaked and wrinkled, and his dark gray skin shone with moisture from her tears. She hurriedly wiped her face with her palms and winced when the salt burned her scrapes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have—”
“You don’t need to apologize, Samantha,” he said, raising a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of her face. He glanced at the alien thugs; the conscious pair were struggling to their feet. Alkorin moved to stand beside Sam and placed a hand on her lower back. “Come. We should be on our way before they feel well enough to call their friends. I would feel bad if I had to rough up an entire street gang tonight. I can only imagine what it’d do to their reputation.”
Samantha let out a soft, airy laugh then nodded and began walking at his gentle guidance. Sniffling again, she peeked up at him; his center eye was staring down at her. She quickly averted her gaze.
It was so…weird.
He chuckled and shifted his hand to her hip, drawing her against him.
She should’ve resisted, should’ve pushed away and put distance between them, but at that moment, she didn’t wantto move away. After all he’d done for her, after the way he’d fought, she felt like the safest place in the universe was here at his side.
“One of them called yousedhi. Is…that what you are?” she asked.
“Yes. That is what my people are called.”
