No Light (13 page)

             
"My parents and my-" she broke off, clearing her throat.

             
"Your brother," he finished for her.

             
She looked up to see him watching her. She nodded.

             
"The one who was supposed to represent your family."

             
She nodded silently.

             
"He is in the hospital," he stated.

             
She looked away.

             
"Another fire. Like the one that burned your hands."

             
Her gaze raised to his at the soft words. He looked at her hard. His hands slid down her arms to grip her wrists. She let him flip her hands over. His gaze moved over her palms and she fought the urge to pull away.

             
"Yes," she answered shakily, shivering when his thumbs brushed over her skin.

             
"Your parents are not pleased that you have taken this position."

             
She tried to jerk her hands away from him, but his fingers tightened. She clenched her jaw, forced to watch him run his thumbs over the scarred skin. She fought the urge to shiver.

             
"Answer," he demanded quietly.

             
She straightened her spine and stared at him. He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. She watched his lips curve.

             
"A bit of fight in you, after all," he said, leaning down to her level.

             
She bit her lip, but did not answer.

             
"First you lie to me about your age and now this refusal to speak of your parents."

             
She watched dark amusement fill his gaze. He tipped his head to the side, as if examining her. She flinched when he suddenly pulled up her right sleeve. His gaze dropped to look at her arm.

             
"Not pleased, at all."

             
She refused to look at the bruise. She flinched when his fingertips lightly dragged over the handprint.

             
"One of many?"

             
She closed her eyes and turned her face away.

             
"Let me guess..." he started, grasping her chin and turning her head toward him.

             
She bit the inside of her cheek.

             
"Big brother was the favorite," he whispered in her ear.

             
She fought to turn her head, but his fingers did not loosen.

             
"And he was the only thing between you and a good beating."

             
She flinched.

             
"Open your eyes," he demanded.

             
She shook her head as much as she could with his tight grip.

             
"I won't tell you again."

             
She slowly blinked her eyes open. His face was only inches from hers, close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. It smelled spicy.

             
"Tell me I am correct."

             
She let out a shaky sigh and nodded. His gaze fell from hers to frown at her face. She fought not to flinch at the light brush of his thumb across the skin beneath her eye. Her eyes widened when he stared at his hand intensely. She watched him rub his thumb against his first finger, as if pondering her tear. He stepped back from her and turned away.

...

              His anger vanished the moment he saw the tear drop from her lower lashes. It rolled down her pale cheek slowly, seeming to pause so he could capture it. He could not keep his hand from rising to her face. Her reddened eyes watched him warily and the sick feeling in his stomach increased. The ator burned brighter after he caught the tear on his thumb.

             
He felt her eyes on him, questioning his behavior, but he could not summon the anger to snap at her. The dark, twisting feeling faded with each answer she gave. His mind called it anger, but it held an edge of possessiveness. The thought of Williams laying his hands on her. His chest tightened. She shifted behind him, but she did not move away from the wall where he had left her.

             
"Farran," she called quietly.

             
"Can you not be silent?" he snarled.

             
He did not see her flinch, but he heard her sharp inhale. It did not ease the pressure in his chest.

             
"I'm sor-"

             
He whirled around and slammed his fist into wall beside her head. She gasped and froze in place. He struggled to control himself, as the bone of his hand re-knit. Her eyes jerked to his hand at the loud snap.

             
She looked at him in horror. "Your hand-"

             
He stepped away from her. Her gaze followed him, disbelief flashing in her eyes when he uncurled his fingers to show an undamaged hand. His eyes snapped away from her at the sound of footsteps outside the door. A Dem and the clumsy gate of a human. The scanner beeped and the door slid open. Motlin met his gaze for a split second before dropping his gaze.

             
"Sarah?"

             
Farran took a menacing step toward Handler Williams, but Luke ignored his presence. The human's gaze was fixed on his handler where she still stood against the wall beside the door.

             
She did not look at the human. "Yes?" she answered, without looking away from him.

             
He saw Luke from the corner of his eye. The human looked back and forth between them. "You okay?"

             
Sarah nodded silently. Her gaze flicked to the human when he took a step toward her.

             
Farran growled in warning. Williams ignored him, but Sarah moved away from the wall.

             
"Are you sure? You look a little pale." Williams looked away from her long enough to glance toward him.

             
"So concerned, human? Must be professional courtesy." He smiled humorlessly.

             
"Go to your cell, Dem," Williams ordered, before reaching toward Sarah.

             
Farran felt his control snap. He lunged at the human.

             
"Farran, no!"

             
Her cry faded to the background behind the satisfaction of the human's throat under his hands. His gaze fixed on the other man's wide eyes. He felt his lips curve into a cold smile.

             
"Stop!" a voice yelled desperately.

             
He growled at a light tugging sensation on his arm.

             
"You're killing him!"

             
The meaning of the words slowly filled his mind. He jerked the man from the floor to slam him back down. He imagined he felt the stone give beneath the pressure.

             
"Stop it!"

             
Tiny hands clutched at his arm and he swatted at the annoyance. A broken cry barely penetrated the red haze.

             
"General!" a deeper voice bellowed.

             
His gaze snapped away from the limp form in his hands to see his head engineer cradling a small figure. He saw a flash of irritation in Motlin's eyes before he dropped his gaze to the girl in his arms.

             
The ator swirled under her skin like blue flames, wild and angry. Farran met her dazed eyes and felt the sickening clench in his stomach.

...

              Sarah blinked hard, struggling to breathe passed the pain in her ribs. Her heart pounded in her chest. The sound filled her ears as she stared up at the ceiling. The air would not come and her heart beat so hard it hurt. She felt a large hand slide between her body and the floor. It pushed her into a sitting position, holding her in place against a warm body. Oxygen suddenly flooded into her lungs. She squeezed her eyes closed and gulped in a lungful of air.

             
"Remain still, human," a deep voice rumbled.

             
She nodded weakly. The tingle under her skin increased until it felt like a hum. With each throb of energy, her breaths came easier. The tension spilled from her, leaving her feeling boneless.

             
"General," the same voice bellowed.

             
She blinked open her eyes. The room was a blurry mass of colors, but Farran stood out in stark relief. His black gaze fixed on hers and she watched something unnamed flicker in his eyes. Her eyes widened when all of the color drained from his face. He rose quickly, his gaze fixed on a point over her shoulder.

             
"I apologize for my informal contact with your marked-" the deep voice behind her started.

             
Farran made a violent slashing motion with his hand and the voice cut off. Sarah looked away from him to peek over her shoulder. Motlin's stormy gaze snapped to hers.               She looked away. "Is-is Luke alive?" she asked to break the uncomfortable silence.

             
Farran sent her a dark look, but nodded.

             
She sighed in relief.

             
Farran's eyes narrowed at her.

             
"Can I check on him?" She watched Farran glare down at Luke from beneath her eyelashes.              

             
He seemed to ponder her question. Finally, he gave her a curt nod.              "Remove it from my presence." He turned his back on her.

             
She gingerly rose from the floor, casting his back an unsure glance.

             
"Go ahead," Motlin said under his breath.

             
She sent him a small smile.

             
He did not return it, but he nodded.

             
"I have no patience for your vacillation," Farran snarled.

             
She jerked at the harsh tone, but hurried forward to kneel next to Luke. As she felt for a pulse, her fingers smeared through warm blood. She started to pull away, but Luke let out a soft moan of pain. She forced herself closer, staring hard at his face to avoid the blood on his head and neck.

             
His eyes blinked open and he squinted up at her. "Sarah?"

             
She nodded.

             
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

             
She cringed, as he rolled his head to the side and she saw the blood smear on the stone floor. He let out another low groan, his hands curled into tight fists.

             
"You're going to be okay, Luke. Just try to lay still." She licked her lips nervously, glancing at Farran's tense back. "I'm going to get some help."

             
"The Dems," Luke gasped, he eyes looking around frantically, as he grabbed her hand.

             
Sarah shook her head.

             
"Security," he whispered weakly. He stared at her for another minute, before his eyes fell closed.

             
Sarah stared at his slack face. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. She glanced at the two Dems.

             
Motlin slowly stood from the floor and turned toward his cell. She watched him step inside the small space. When she turned her head back to Farran, he stared at her.

             
"Will you go to your cell?" she asked him quietly.

             
His eyes narrowed.

             
She sighed quietly. "Please?"

             
His gaze moved between her and Luke's prone form. She could almost feel his hatred toward the man. He gave her a look she could not interpret and walked to his cell.

             
"Thank you," she whispered.

             
He did not reply.

             
She quickly secured both cells and hurried to the main hall. She could feel the eyes of the Dems on her, the moment she explained the situation to Keane.