Chapter Eight
Mary paced Rykaur’s apartment, fighting back the nausea that rolled through her gut. The small vial of poison seemed to burn a hole in her skirt pocket. Her palms grew sweaty, and breathing grew more difficult by the minute.
She wandered into Rykaur’s bedroom and ran her hand down the strange-looking blanket that covered his massive bed.
Taking a seat on the edge of the mattress, Mary dropped her head into her hands and fought back the tears that threatened.
She had to poison the Bracadytes.
A vision of Rykaur’s handsome face lit behind her eyes. How could she destroy something so magnificent?
It was either him or the children, she repeated to herself over and over. No matter how attracted she was to the Bracadyte, the children were her top priority.
“Why do you cry?”
Startled, Mary jerked her head up and met the emerald-green gaze of Rykaur.
She jumped to her feet. “I wasn’t crying.”
“I could feel your emotions before I stepped into the foyer. What has you in tears?”
Mary shrugged, feigning indifference. “I’m just tired, I guess.”
“You lie.”
It angered her that he could read her so well. “Fine. If you must know, I was just thinking about my parents.”
Though lying didn’t come easy for Mary, the untruth slipped from her lips with a quickness. The last thing she needed was Rykaur probing too deeply.
“What happened to your parents?”
Mary quickly thought up another tale, this one even bigger than the last. “They died of Incola.”
Pity resonated from Rykaur. “I am sorry.”
Growing more uncomfortable by the second, Mary glanced away. “I’d like to take a shower, but I noticed you don’t have one in your apartment.”
“We have a bath house,” Rykaur murmured. “Would you like for me to take you there?”
Mary nodded. Though a bath would feel wonderful right about now, she was more looking forward to the solitude it would bring.
Rykaur turned back to the kitchen and snatched up her bag. “Follow me.”
Mary trailed behind him to stay out of his line of sight. Not that it would matter much. He could obviously feel her emotions.
Her gaze landed on his muscular ass encased in those tight jeans she’d divested him of earlier that morning, and the memory of his extremely large manhood drifted through her mind.
A blush crept up her neck to burn in her cheeks. How could she think about his manly parts at a time like this?
Rykaur suddenly stopped, nearly causing her to run into his back.
He slowly turned to face her. “You desire me?”
Mary’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She’d known the Bracadytes could feel certain emotions, but desire?
Mortified that he could read her inappropriate feelings, Mary said the first thing that came to mind. “I was just remembering our romp on the floor of your tent this morning.”
It was Rykaur’s turn to join the uncomfortable circus. He spun around and strode down the hall without responding.
Mary would have laughed if she’d had an ounce of humor left inside her. She doubted she’d ever laugh again. At least not until the children were far away from Jefferies.
Rykaur suddenly stopped outside a large opening on the left and waved a hand for Mary to precede him.
Avoiding his gaze, she stepped through the opening and her breath caught. “Oh wow…”
A giant pool filled with crystal-clear water sat in the center of the room. Steam rose from its surface like the morning mist of a spring-fed lake, warm and inviting.
Stone shelves lined the opposite wall, housing fluffy, white towels and several bottles of different-colored liquids. Cakes of pale pink soap sat around the pool’s edges, permeating the air with strawberries.
Stone benches sat along the other wall, surrounded by the same swirling steam that drifted from the pool.
Mary inched forward, engrossed in her surroundings while Rykaur moved to the shelves to snag a few towels.
“I will wait out in the hall until you are finished.” He handed her the towels on his way to the doorway.
Mary waited until he disappeared from sight and then quickly stripped out of her clothes. She laid the towels on the side of the pool and stepped into the welcoming heat of the water.
Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head from pleasure.
She waded out a little deeper before dunking her head beneath the water’s surface and swimming to the built-in bench protruding from the sides.
Grabbing up a cake of the delicious-smelling soap, Mary lathered up, her mind continuously wandering to the overly large Bracadyte standing in the hall.
He had to be the most intimidating yet utterly gorgeous man she’d ever met. Only, he wasn’t a man at all. He was an alien. An alien that could read her emotions.
She blanked her mind and laid her head back on the edge of the pool.
The hot water lapping across her chest felt amazing to Mary’s exhausted body. And she was exhausted. She had been since the day she lost her parents and was tossed into foster care at the tender age of seven.
A vision of her beautiful mother seized Mary’s mind. It had been thirteen years since the fatal accident that claimed the lives of Mary’s parents. Thirteen years since she’d been placed with the Clarks. Thirteen years of mind-numbing abuse.
Mary’s eyes drifted shut. She just needed a minute to rest her mind, to quiet her torturous thoughts, and slow her racing heart.
Just one minute…