Page 37 of Shattered Silence

Suddenly, he became acutely aware of her state of undress, and for a heartbeat, his gaze flicked down to her chest, where her small, pert breasts captured his attention, her nipples proudly erect and delicious, twin delicate nubs surrounded by a halo of pebbled tawny skin.

He became aware of her scent—female musk and sweetness and a hint of earthy sweat, mingling with the sharp remnants of metallic blood.

He noticed the delicate ripple of bumps across her skin, and how she was trembling slightly, shivers racking her body in rhythmic waves.

Shit.

She looked uncomfortable.

Enki cursed himself for being careless. He’d forgotten humans were sensitive to cold, and that they followed certain customs when it came to dressing. Kaiin’s hells; he knew so little about them.

Suddenly, her body wasn’t just a thing to look at dispassionately. It wasn’t just an ordinary soft-skinned alien’s body.

It was a woman’s body, and she was watching him expectantly, her brow furrowing slightly. “Enki, are you okay?”

He took a step back as her addictive scent surrounded him. His nostrils flared. His claws extended. His cock stiffened.

Well, that was qui—

You shut the fuck up now.

“Wait here,” he said to Layla, trying to inject some gentleness into his voice. “I will be back.”

He slipped away into the darkness before her spell undid him completely.

Chapter Thirteen

Much to Layla’s relief, Enki returned a few minutes later, materializing out of the shadows like a wraith. If she had to guess what he did for a living, she would put her money on spy or assassin, because he moved so damn quietly and quickly.

It freaked her out a little bit.

As she caught sight of him, Layla nearly had a mini heart attack, because suddenly, he looked like one of them.

Fear clutched at her insides as she absorbed his transformation. Enki had ditched the plain grey suit in favor of a Kordolian military uniform that looked suspiciously like the exact same one Captain Pradon had been wearing. If it was Pradon’s uniform, the jet-black fabric would hide any bloodstains.

Weapons had materialized out of nowhere; a long sword hung at his waist, and two sleek black guns were holstered within easy reach at each side. He was actually very well armed.

As Enki strode toward her, Layla couldn’t help but remember the way she’d been treated by Pradon and his crew. The memories were so fresh in her mind that she involuntarily flinched. If anything, Enki looked a thousand times more dangerous and intimidating in that uniform than Pradon had. There was a sharpness about him; a sense that he could kill you in the blink of an eye if you crossed him.

“Why are you wearing that?” she asked nervously, not liking his silence, not liking the fierceness in his gaze. Why had he left so suddenly, only to return looking like some goddamn amber-eyed terror from the old Kordolian Empire?

Had she upset him somehow?

“Get dressed.” Enki thrust a pile of fabric at her, and Layla realized it was the grey jumpsuit thing he’d been wearing just a moment ago. “Now that you’re healed, we’re going to escape.” As he glanced down at his own clothes, a look of distaste crossed his stern features. “I hate this uniform, but it may serve to buy us some time and sow confusion amongst our enemies.”

Layla gingerly took the grey ball of fabric, still staring at Enki in his military uniform as relief coursed through her. He isn’t one of them. He’s just using the uniform as a disguise. She kept repeating the words in her mind like a mantra, because that was the only way for her to keep sane.

“I would have brought you something closer to your size, but there was nothing that wasn’t soaked in blood.”

His words sent a chill through Layla, until it occurred to her that he was actually being… considerate. She waved her hand, trying to make out like it was no big deal. “I’m in dire need of a shower, anyway. Is it too much for a girl to hope there are hot showers onboard wherever we’re going?”

“It is not too much to hope.” Enki frowned, and for a split-second, his eyes dropped to her bare chest. Layla couldn’t put her finger on it, but during the short time they’d been together in here, something had changed.

The way he’d looked at her just now… it made heat rise in her cheeks, and suddenly she was acutely aware of her state of undress.

Layla wasn’t particularly modest when it came to her body—it was impossible to be when her life had been VR-streamed to billions of viewers all over Earth—but now she felt exposed, wary, and a little bit curious.

What did he think of her? As an alien, did he find her strange, awkward, ugly? Did he think she was weak?

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