“We need the weapon.”
Her eyes met his again. “Really need it or is it just something that would make your fight easier?”
“No. It will not be easy even with it. The enemy we are up against outnumbers us in every way. We will likely all die even with the weapon. But if we can save lives with it, then we need to have it.”
She looked away then. Her throat worked. “You don’t even know what it is. I know you don’t because the others have already asked me what it is capable of, and if it even still exists.”
His fingers caught her wrist, her attention came back to his face. He asked, urgently. “Does it?”
“Yes.”
“We have to take it.” He regarded her face. “You’re alone here?”
“Are you sizing me up in case I fight you for it?”
His humor surfaced again. “I’ve seen you fight. I’d rather not be your enemy.” He sobered. “No, that’s not why I was asking. I was wondering what you will do if this place implodes or something. You can’t stay here. There’s no way you can stay here. You will have to go with us.”
Her breath was a small and thin sound. “I know that.”
He sensed her sorrow. He didn’t release her wrist. Her skin, that marvelous and slightly firm surface, held his attention as his fingertips pressed against the smooth and cool flesh of her wrist. He spoke gently. “This has been your home for a very long time, hasn’t it?”
She gulped. Her eyes shone but if it were tears that turned her golden eyes liquid, they did not fall. “Yes, too long. And it stopped being a home many years ago. I have always known I might have to leave one day. Yet I find myself torn, odd as that is. I am alone here and being in company—it’s…” Her hands came up and made an elegant gesture. His fingers dropped away from her wrist as she did so and he had the strong urge to take hold of that wrist again but didn’t.
He said, “You’re afraid.”
She nodded. “Of course. I don’t know much about contact. I have lost all that I loved and all the ones that I loved over the years, and I have grown both used to and resentful of the silence here. Eat.” She stood. Her hair swept across the floor and brought a faintly floral scent to his nostrils. “You will need to be stronger than you think. If you want the weapon, we have to get to the room where the machine lies, and beyond it as well. I have to gather things I will need before I depart, and Tralam is, indeed, crumbling more with each passing second.”
She walked away. Drake bit into the food she had handed him. It was a little salty and a little sweet—like the taste of a woman.
His eyes went back to Lornia. His desire stirred again, disconcerting him. What was he thinking? He was in Tralam, and it was about to fall down right on his head! He had a weapon to get and a universe to save, and all he could think of was to wonder if she tasted the same way the food she had offered him tasted.
