Page 17 of A Darkside Interlude

He would fit in very well in a lawless place like Darkside.

As the alien ran, he offered no answer to her question, but at times he would glance down at her, studying her face.

Mari didn’t know what he was looking for, but his eyes were searing, the effect made all the more potent by the fact that the lower part of his face was still covered by that red-and-white desert scarf. His hair was hidden by the dark hood of his jacket, which cast the rest of his face in shadow.

Who are you, really?

She still hadn’t gotten the full measure of him, and now she was scared and intrigued.

Chapter Eight

Fear.

Iskar understood the concept all too well. Fear was a crucial ingredient in that elusive concoction called power.

Fear was a useful tool, but in order to be effective, it had to be tempered with hope.

The tactician in him knew the female in his arms was afraid of him, but he’d shown just enough restraint to offer her some hope. In contrast, the savage in him grew more and more restless with every passing siv.

The way her curves molded perfectly against his broad chest, one would think her body had been designed just for him. Although his shoulder still ached like crazy—the nanites in the fibrogel would have done a basic patch repair, just enough to render his arm functional—he didn’t care. The savage in him demanded this closeness; this unexpected, secret intimacy.

How surprising.

Even more surprising was that he’d tried—and failed—to put a dampener on his inner savage. The bulge in his pants was proof of that.

“It’s down here,” she said softly, pointing down a narrow, shadowy street. Her low voice wrapped its silken tendrils around him and dragged him deeper into the depths of this exquisite madness.

“Here?” He tried to conceal his disbelief. The area she’d directed him to was even more decrepit than the narrow streets he’d passed through before. Iskar’s booted feet sank into soft desert sand as he avoided scattered pieces of metal and synthetic debris. On either side of them, humans had tried to cobble together some semblance of order, constructing flimsy structures from odd pieces of junk, some of which still had the packing labels attached.

“Not the fanciest digs around, but it’s home.”

“Hm.” For once in his life, Iskar was speechless. This vexing, seductive creature, who had walked up to him with such confidence on the Glory Strip, momentarily robbing him of his senses, lived in a hovel.

This was unexpected.

Earth’s officials had given him the impression that theirs was a prosperous, utopian society, but all was not as it seemed. Behind his scarf, Iskar’s lips curved into a bitter half-smile. Why was he not surprised? It was the same all over the Universe. Officials always lied.

Was this what Torin wanted him to see? Yet another depressing truth?

“The blue door. That’s where I live.” The human pointed to a metal door coated in powdery, flaking blue paint. An unreadable word was scrawled across the door in black human-script. As they approached, she yelled something in a guttural, rapid-fire Earth language. It sounded like a warning.

“What was that?” Iskar’s voice grew sharp.

“Voice activation,” she said quietly. It was obvious she was lying.

“You know better than to try and lay some sort of trap for me, don’t you? The only reason I didn’t kill the Touched One back there was because you asked me nicely.”

The female nodded. “I-I understand.” Her body trembled slightly, betraying her fear. She was right to be afraid of him. Right now, Iskar held all the power. She was injured and helpless, and they were alone in a deserted street.

He could do anything.

“As long as you don’t do anything stupid, I won’t hurt you.”

“Got it.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she closed her eyes with a sigh. A look of defeat softened her exquisite features.

Somehow, that look punched through the shell of Iskar’s battle-hardened heart, and he was filled with a strange new emotion.

What is this? He couldn’t quite identify the feeling, but it made him hold her a little tighter, forcing her to look up. “I’m helping you, remember? We are going to go inside, and I will tend to your feet.”

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