‘Ko’sawa?’
The sound struck her harder than the recent violence.
His timbre was deep and lush, resonant enough to send shivers through her.
His accent was resonant with a timbred refinement and sonorous potency, with a cadence that hinted at courts, bloodlines, ancient wars, and histories long buried.
She straightened, shaking.
‘You speak?’ she whispered.
‘When I choose to,’ he rasped, his timbre rough and raw from disuse. ‘I asked if you’re okay.’
She nodded, still struggling to steady her breathing.
‘I am,’ she said.
‘Did he hurt you?’
‘He tried, but nothing worth noting went down. Not before you arrived.’
Idan’s eyes darkened.
Thunder cracked overhead. Lightning tore the sky open.
In the distance, the Rhixon Corporation’s flyer wobbled, spiraled, then lurched back under control as it fled into the clouds.
Sheba stared at the phenomenon, then back at Idan.
‘Did you just -?’
‘I protect those who cannot defend themselves,’ Idan growled. ‘Now go. Let your people care for you, and rest, or I’ll return and insist upon it.’
‘I have night duty.’
He shook his head. ‘Not any more, you don’t.’
She tilted her head, affronted. ‘Who are you to tell me what to do?’
Idan’s jaw clenched, and he crossed his massive arms.
She tilted her chin.
He narrowed his glowing eyes.
She glared.
‘I don’t care if you’re a literal storm-bringer who’s ended civilizations. Your brooding energy doesn’t work with me.’
His eyes flared with a wild power, and she jolted.
‘Rest, Sheba.’
She jolted at how sensual her appellation sounded when he growled it. ‘You know my name.’
He jerked his chin at her, eyes smoldering, scorching her, with such intensity it got her heart rate kicking. ‘I discerned it.’
‘Are you even human?’ she murmured, lost in consternation. ‘You’re not Tansinian. Sowhatare you?’
