He wanted to see more. Maureen was trailing a few paces behind the Mondarian. It was safe enough to look up.
Their eyes met, a burning gaze shared between them as they passed. Impulsively, Bodok let his hand swing wide, brushing against hers, yearning for even the slightest touch from the woman he craved. But something more than mere contact happened.
A jolt of electric sensation ran up both of their arms, the shock clear on each of their faces. Then, a moment later, she was gone, walking ahead, leaving him in her wake.
Bodok stopped in place, the annoyed crowd shifting their paths to move around the large man in their way.
“Impossible,” he gasped, looking at his hand in disbelief.
His attention was elsewhere, though, focused on the pigment bonded to his body. The damaged part of him the Raxxians had rendered inert.
He turned and began following her, his mind racing. It couldn’t be, but he was unable to deny what he had felt. Incredibly, the long-silent Infala on his chest had twitched with a spark of life. A small but very much tangible tug when their hands connected.
Somehow, it was a part of him again. Barely, and only tickling the absolute fringe of his senses, but it was there. And it had reacted to Maureen. His thoughts hit in a burst, all of the possibilities flashing through his mind in an instant.
He followed at a distance, unsure what to do but unable to stop his feet. Fortunately, Bodok had the time to spare, but the farther they walked, the faster he would have to make his return trip. Much longer and he would be forced to run all the way back to the labor camp.
The Mondarian stopped at what looked like a small jewelry shop. He got a better look at her as she turned and said something to Maureen, waving her aside with a dismissive gesture before stepping into the establishment.
The servant was to wait outside, it seemed.
Bodok let out a slow breath and calmed his racing mind as he walked toward her. Maureen looked up, feeling him draw near.
“You’re okay,” she said, taking his hand in hers, a jolt of relief but also something else rushing through their bodies.
“And you,” he replied, a look so warm and full of care it threatened to melt her on the spot. “You have received your pigment, I see. Your Infala.”
“Yeah, the Skrizzit did a real number on me. The whole thing in one sitting.”
He stared hard, looking her up and down, taking her in. “I can only imagine.”
Maureen blushed, a heat rising between her legs, much to her surprise. They were essentially slave laborers, and on a busy street, no less, but in spite of that his gaze felt like hot water flowing over her skin, and it was delightful.
“We don’t have long,” she said, glancing into the store.
Mistress Tormik had stopped what she was doing and was staring out the window at her. The expression on her face made it clear she was not amused. Not one bit.
“I must see you,” he said, his want clear in his eyes.
“How?”
“I work alone. I can adjust to meet you. I will find a way.”
Maureen’s mind raced. “I’m supposed to make a trip to pick up some tailored clothes in three days. She sends me out around noon. It’s the shop next to a high-end bakery near the arena. Do you know where that is?”
“I do. I will not know my work assignment until the day, but if it is within my power, I will be there.”
He saw her glance inside, a look of worry on her face, and knew he had to go. “I will be thinking of you tonight,” Bodok said with a smoldering grin, then squeezed her hand once and turned and quickly walked away, leaving her reeling from the encounter, her cheeks flush and her nascent Infala tingling in her skin.
“Who was that prisoner?” Mistress Tormik asked, storming out of the shop.
“Who?”
“The man. The one you were just speaking with. You know you are not to talk to strangers. Servants are to remain silent in the presence of strangers.”
“Ah, right. Yes, of course. But he’s not a stranger,” she replied.
“Oh? How do you know this prisoner?”
