Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“My feral state?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you know about that?”
“Only what I was told on the Mother Ship,” Imani said quickly. “That you’re a Nightwalker and you have this kind of…of animalistic fugue state you go into and I was warned never, ever to let you get into that state but when I finally made them bring you into the courtroom, you were already in it. At least, it seemed like it because you were snarling and growling and even when you calmed down you weren’t talking in complete sentences. And—”
She broke off abruptly, realizing she was babbling in her embarrassment and haste to explain.
“And?” he inquired, clearly wanting her to finish.
“And I don’t really know that much about your people, so I’m sorry if I offended you,” she said. “I know it’s really awkward to wake up in a bed with some woman you don’t even know and believe me, I feel awkward too. But last night—”
“Yes, what exactly happened last night?” J’are’s pale green eyes seemed to pierce right through her. “I have some very strange memories but they’re all over the place. The feral part of me—yes, you got that part right—isn’t very good with communicating.”
“Last night…” Damn! Imani could feel her cheeks getting hot. Last night she had done things with him no attorney ought to do with her client. And now he was in his right mind and asking what she had done.
Imani felt like a felon—like she had taken advantage of him in his altered state of consciousness to do sexual things with his big body without asking for consent. How could she tell him what had happened and still expect him to trust her to defend him in court? He would probably just see her as another Yonnite Mistress, out to use him for his body and force him into submission.
“Last night…” she began again and took a deep breath.
She wanted to tell him that nothing had happened between them, but that would be the height of dishonesty and Imani despised lying. No, there was nothing she could do but try to explain as truthfully as she could and hope her client could forgive her and learn to trust her again.
“Last night,” she said for the third time as he waited patiently, “We did some things that were…not appropriate between an attorney and her client. I realize that you were in your feral state and you probably feel taken advantage of—”
“What things?” he interrupted, his green eyes burning.
Oh God. This was just getting worse and worse.
Imani lifted her chin.
“Well, first of all, I gave you a bath. But I had to,” she went on quickly. “Because you were all covered in this shiny black paint stuff—I mean covered.”
He nodded stiffly.
“The synther paint. I used it to cover my k’dra.”
“Your markings, you mean?” She nodded at the black tattoo-like designs on his arms and chest and back. She had a faint memory of them glowing a soft silver in the darkness the night before, but she had been so sleepy at that point it was hard to remember clearly.
“Exactly.” J’are nodded. “They kept barrels of the stuff in the store room—it’s what they used to keep the hole so dark—it absorbs light. I have a memory…” He closed his eyes briefly, frowning. “I think I do, anyway, of smearing it all over my body.”
“Because otherwise your markings would have given you away?” Imani asked hesitantly. “Because they glow—right? Glow in the dark?”
He nodded. “On my home world the k’dra are a mating symbol. They allow a female seeking to Claim a male to find him in the dark on Bonding Night. But in the hole they were a fucking liability.” He shivered reflexively, like a man trying to throw off a nightmare.
“I’m so sorry you were put there,” Imani said softly. She put a hand on his muscular arm but he twitched away from her. “Oh, sorry.” She pulled her hand back quickly.
“It’s all right.” He shook his head and looked away. “It’s just…touching. I can’t…I haven’t been touched with anything but a fist in I don’t know how long.” He looked up at her. “How long was I in there, anyway?”
“About three of your months, I think,” Imani said. “You were scheduled for execution.”
“Because I killed her? Killed Mistress Zangelo?” He had a haunted look in his eyes. “Did I kill her? I know I woke up all covered in blood and they said—”
“No, no! You didn’t kill her.” Imani put out a hand again, wanting to comfort him, and then stopped herself just in time. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be touched after everything he’d been through.
“I didn’t? Are you sure?” he demanded harshly. “Because the Goddess knows I thought about it often enough. Especially when she was fucking shocking me with the pain collar…” He put up a hand to the thick black collar around his neck and winced, as though with remembered pain.