Page 19 of A Darkside Interlude

That was why she’d taught him to be invisible—just another scruffy street kid, indistinguishable from all the others.

Vamosh! Disappear!

Arturo was smart enough. Mari guessed he would have taken one look through the viewport, seen the big bad stranger, and disappeared up into the roof-void.

Arturo had to be protected at all costs. Unlike her, he actually had a chance of getting out of this shit-hole.

As the front door swung open, Mari looked around and saw that her kid brother had indeed disappeared. Relief coursed through her even as the Kordolian stepped across the threshold, dipping his head to avoid banging it on the low door-frame.

Her feet throbbed like crazy. The alien had briefly let her down so she could unlock the door. As her feet touched the ground, agonizing pain had ripped across her soles, and when she’d hissed in protest, the alien had swept her up into his arms.

Again!

He did it so effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and somehow, she was getting used to the feeling of being in his strong arms. Mari still didn’t understand how he’d healed so damn quickly, but underneath the fabric of his jacket, his arms felt as if they were made of sculpted steel.

Without waiting for directions, he carried her across the small space and gently deposited her on the tattered floral couch in the corner.

Then he pushed back his hood.

Mari’s eyes widened. His hair was as white as snow, cropped high and tight in a style that seemed distinctly… military.

He pulled down his scarf.

Mari’s heart did a flip. He looked… exactly the way he sounded. Hard, dangerous, and a little bit cold. Everything about him was sharp. His elegant, angular features could have been carved from solid silver, and his grey lips were pressed into a thin, disapproving line. Pointed ears curved upwards, giving him a distinctly otherworldly appearance. Sharp eyes dissected the room, taking in every detail.

Fierce. Striking. Kordolian.

And not entirely… unattractive. One might even call him handsome, if one had a thing for aliens.

Who are you kidding, Maribel? He’s hot. Scary-hot, alien-hot, mysterious-hot.

He was definitely some sort of boss, a hard-ass who issued orders. He had that authoritative sort of air about him; she couldn’t imagine him taking shit from anyone.

As his crimson gaze returned to her face, his lips slowly curved into a smile, revealing the twin points of his fangs.

Fangs! As if his appearance wasn’t already fearsome enough! Mari knew about the Kordolians’ silver skin from the footage on the Networks, but she’d had no idea they had fangs. What other interesting features did they possess that humans didn’t?

“Is your curiosity satisfied now?” He reached into his jacket as he spoke, retrieving the healing-gel-tube-thing she’d used on him earlier. “Put your feet up.”

“I—” Taken aback, all Mari could do was obey. She had an inkling of what he was about to do to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare at you like some desert bumpkin.” She rested her head on a frayed old pillow and sighed, looking up at the low ceiling. The ancient solar-powered light flickered, casting uneven shadows across the room. “We don’t get many offworlders around these parts.”

For a split-second, light shone between the gaps in the ceiling-boards, alerting Mari to movement above.

Arturo. Knowing that brat, he’d be peering down between the cracks, watching Mari and the Kordolian.

The alien removed his gloves, revealing long-fingered hands tipped with black nails. With the Kordolian’s attention momentarily diverted, Mari looked up at the ceiling, her eyes narrowing. “Quiet. Don’t move,” she mouthed in Eskulin, knowing Arturo would be able to read her lips. “I’ve got this under control.”

The Kordolian took one of her feet by the heel, lifting it with surprising gentleness. He frowned as he examined it. “I am no medic, but this looks like a chemical burn. You must have stepped in something corrosive.” His frown deepened. “You must also have an impressive pain threshold.”

Mari shrugged. “It’s a tough world. If I lay down and cried every time something like this happened to me, I’d have no tears left.”

“Hm.” He held the gel-tube against the bottom of her foot. “Next time, you should wear shoes.”

A cold, tingling sensation spread across her burning sole, providing her with instant relief.

“I don’t plan on there being a next time,” Mari muttered, hiding her inner thoughts. By pointing out the obvious, he unwittingly reminded her of a depressing truth.

Good shoes were a luxury she couldn’t afford. Now that she’d lost her fuck-me heels on the Glory Strip, she only had a pair of worn-out sandals to her name. Secretly, she longed to own a pair of lifetime-guaranteed, thick-soled duragard boots, but when the Collector took ninety percent of whatever she earned, she could only dream of such things.

---