Untouched The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,56

wasn’t Henderschott, I knew that much. His face was normal, handsome even, though pale.

“Can I please come in?” He looked back down the hall, furtive, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I saw you outside and followed you back here so we could talk.”

“Saw me outside?” I drew the door a little closer to shut. “There wasn’t anyone outside just now. The campus was deserted.” I straightened, trying to project the image that I was strong by drawing myself up to my full height. I doubt it worked. At 5 foot 4 inches, I was shorter than almost everyone. Including him. “By the way, telling a girl you followed her back to her room? Not exactly a turn on. Kinda makes you sound like a stalker.”

He brought his hand up to his eyes as though he were frustrated, massaging his temples. He looked out at me from behind his fingers. “I need to talk with you.” He pulled his hand away from his face and held it up. I stared at it, wondering what he was going to do next when the tip of his finger burst into flames. I yelped in surprise and the flame spread across his entire hand, stopping at the wrist. With an abrupt flick of his fingers, the fire died and his flesh returned.

“Aleksandr Gavrikov,” I whispered.

He stared down at me with those intense, blue eyes, and I swore I could see a hint of fire deep within them. “Yes. Now can I come in?”

Chapter 17

I took a few steps back trying to get away from him, but Gavrikov took it as a sign to enter. He closed the door after checking the hallway again. He pressed his back to the door after shutting it. He was haggard, his face pale, the coloring washed out. Big beads of sweat ran down his forehead and he was breathing heavily.

I didn’t want to ask, but I did it anyway. “Are you all right?” The backs of my thighs felt the soft impact of the edge of the bed; I could not retreat any farther without making it obvious.

“What?” His accent was more pronounced and he blinked a few times, as though his eyes were hurting him. “Oh. I have not been...” He stared down at his hands, as if seeing them for the first time. “It has been very long since I last quenched the fire.” He took another deep breath. “I don’t think I’ve done it since...” He looked up, concentrating as if trying to recall. “Not for over a hundred years.”

“Uh...how do you eat?” My brain screamed at me for my stupidity, asking him dumb questions when I should be jumping out the window, running far, far away from the man who blew up an entire building last night.

“I don’t,” he said with a grim smile. “When I am afire, I don’t need to eat, I subsist on air—it keeps the flames burning.”

“Oh.” I pondered that. “You don’t like being human?”

He looked down at his hands again. “Flesh is easily hurt. Not so with flame; it can be elusive, unquenchable—and it feels no pain.”

“Ah,” I said, still feeling dumb. “So...what do you want to talk about?”

“Have a seat,” he offered. I don’t know why, but I sat down on the bed. If he burst into flames, it wasn’t likely to matter whether I was standing or not. He walked past me to the window and looked out. “I have to thank you again for freeing me.” He looked out through the glass, then to either side as if he were trying to find curtains.

I shook my head when he turned back to me. “The glass is mirrored. No one outside can see us.”

His hand touched the window and he looked at it, curious. “So many differences since I was a child. We did not even have windows in the house I grew up in.”

“Yeah, me neither, for all intents and purposes,” I said, drawing a surprised look from him. “I had a somewhat unconventional childhood.”

“Unconventional.” He nodded and half-smiled. “I like that. I had an unconventional childhood as well.”

“So.” I felt a little awkward, and I still wondered why he was here. “Mr. Gavrikov—

“Please,” he said with a wince. “Call me Aleksandr.”

“Well, I was trying to be a little more formal—”

“I hate that name. “ His mouth was a thin line. “I am only Aleksandr.”

“Okay.” The awkwardness did not abate. “Why are you here?”

He kept his distance, walking over to the desk and the