Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,38
up in the past, that he had forgotten she was there.
"Alexander?"
He blinked several times. "I found her three weeks later." He would never forget the horror of it, the dark black blood encrusted in her hair and clotted over the hideous gash at her throat, the awful smell of her decomposing body.
"AnnaMara . . ." Unbidden, her name whispered past his lips.
"Alex, it's all right. You don't have to tell me any more."
"I found the man who killed her, and I choked the life out of him with my bare hands. And then . . ."
He looked at Kara, at the compassion shining in her eyes, and knew he could not tell her the rest, could not tell her that he had hacked Rell's body to pieces.
He paced the floor, suddenly restless. "When the council learned what had happened, I was arrested and confined to my dwelling. Some of the council members argued that I should be executed, since, like Rell, I had also taken a life. But my father intervened in my behalf, reminding the council that, anciently, it would have been my right to avenge my wife's honor. And so the council decided to be lenient." He spat the last word from his mouth as if it tasted bad. "Instead of having me executed, I was exiled. My parents were entrusted with the care of my daughter, and I was banished from our galaxy to this small, warlike planet."
"I'm sorry, Alex, truly I am."
He stopped pacing and stared into the hearth. "They refused to let me see my daughter before I was sent away," he said, his voice dull with grief. "And now she's dead."
Kara bit down on her lower lip, wishing she could erase the hurt from his past. Wanting to comfort him, she went to stand behind him, hoping her presence would ease his pain. She stared at his rigid back, compelled to reach out, to offer the solace of her touch.
"Don't," he said. "Don't touch me. There's blood on my hands, in my soul."
"Alex, please let me help."
"Nothing can help. Go away, Kara. Now, while you can."
She stared at his back for a long moment, then turned and left the room.
In bed, huddled under the blankets, Kara stared at the ceiling, her heart breaking for the pain Alex had suffered. He had avenged his wife's death, and lost everything. It wasn't fair. She tried to imagine a world without war, without crime, without poverty. Without Alex.
Turning on her side, she closed her eyes, her own troubles seeming minor compared to those of the man in the other room.
There was a terrible awkwardness between them the next day. Kara had prepared a late breakfast, always conscious of the man in the next room. Alex hadn't eaten anything, only drunk a cup of hot black coffee.
He had stood in the living room, staring out the small round window, his hands shoved into his pants pockets, while she ate her solitary meal, then washed the dishes in water warmed by a solar heater. And all the while she had tried to think of some way to ease the strained silence between them.
She had yearned to go to him, to run her fingers through his hair, to press her cheek against his broad back and tell him she was sorry, but she was afraid afraid of what he was, afraid of being rebuffed, and even more afraid of what might happen between them if she stayed. And so she had eaten her solitary breakfast and then washed and dried the dishes.
And now she stood in the opening between the living room and the kitchen, staring at his back and wondering what to do.
"It's stopped raining." His voice was low and soft, yet she had no trouble hearing him. "You should go now."
"Go?"
He nodded. "Take my car and whatever else you need."
For a moment, the thought held a certain appeal. She could leave this place, this strange, troubled man, and go home. Only she couldn't go home. Barrett might be waiting for her.
Kara shuddered, remembering the deranged look in the doctor's eyes when he spoke of testing her blood. She knew now what he was looking for. He had discovered the healing agent in Alex's blood . . . She caught her breath with the realization that freedom lay within her reach. All she had to do was get to a phone, call Barrett, and tell him that it was Alex's blood that held the strange antibody.