The plexiglass offered a haunting panorama of the valley below, draped in the velvet of midnight.
Above, the sky was a vast, glittering expanse, sliced through by the ethereal ribbons of a distant aurora, ghostly greens and violets dancing over the peaks.
She twisted up to see it, mesmerized until a sudden meteor shower brought back memories of why she was here, in this unfamiliar hutwith him.
Panic flared, and she closed her eyes, took deep inhales to tamp her anxiety down, swallowing hard, her jaw tightening.
Yet all she saw behind sealed lids was Imani and Brad as they fell to their deaths.
Sheba rolled onto her side, her teeth gritted against the phantom heat of the slug that tore through her deltoid.
The memory of the clinic massacre assailed her; she re-envisioned the spray of crimson spattering a white shirt and re-imagined the wet rattle of Imani’s last breath.
Burying her face in the musk-scented furs, she bit her lip to stifle the ragged sobs that threatened to shatter the silence.
Her attempt to suppress her weeping failed.
A floorboard groaned under a shift of mass as she flung open her puffed-up eyes.
Idan’s gaze, a molten fusion of silver and gold, raked over her.
Her soul jolted, then surged as if drawn to him by an invisible tether as their eyes locked in the amber gloom.
He set aside the leather-bound book and rose, his frame unfolding with fluid grace.
He bridged the distance to the bedside in three measured strides and knelt before her.
She scrubbed the salt from her cheeks as he leaned in, the glow of his irises radiating a strange, heavy calm.
You’re safe within these walls.
The words bloomed inside her skull, and she winced, unprepared for how his burred subvox whisper sent a shudder through her.
It also calmed her, and her heaving subsided as she wiped away her tears.
He waited in silent patience until she took a deep inhale and shot him a tremulous smile.
He spoke out loud, his timbre a hoarse growl. ‘How do you feel?’
She forced a nod. ‘I’m OK.’
His calloused hands moved toward her shoulder, peeling back the fur wrap to inspect the site of the impact.
The skin showed no puncture, no ragged scar, only a smooth, unbroken expanse of a honey gold complexion, and he grunted in satisfaction.
‘How do you do it?’ she asked, thinking of the blinding flare of white light that emanated from his palms when he healed her.
He pursed his lush lips into a thin line, gazing at her, his gaze heavy and loaded with a thousand years of context.
‘That’s a story for another day,’ he rasped after a long beat.
His face was a cool mask, but the flickering intensity of his sigils told an entirely different truth.
That’s when Sheba realized they were an expression of his emotions better than his actual face.
She exhaled and shook her head. ‘You’re a man who gets off on subrosas.’
He studied his head, a gleam coming to his eye, his timbre dipping into a hoarse rasp. ‘There’s a lot more I get off on, woman. You’ve no idea.’
