on the door twice when you're done." He held up two fingers. "I'll have Bruno let you out."
She nodded again. From the way she reacted, Terror confirmed his suspicion that she could read lips. What was it like for a deaf person in this bizarrely backward society on Calyx? If she had been born to his people, her hearing would have been fixed in-utero. The routine prenatal tests run on pregnant mates would have alerted her parents to the birth defect and allowed a skilled surgeon to make the necessary improvements to her ears. Here, though, she had no doubt been treated like a pariah.
Still not meeting his curious stare, the young woman finished tidying up the cell. He watched the methodical way she wiped and swept the space before unrolling a hose in the corner and turning on the faucet there. She brought the hose toward the center of the room and stood in front of him.
Their gazes finally met—and Terror's stomach did a wild flip. She had the bluest eyes he had ever seen, bluer even than those common in pureblooded Harcos males. Her bright white teeth bit into a plump lower limp. Holding the hose in one hand, she used the other to make a gesture. Brow furrowed, he tried to figure out what she was asking. It was some sort of sign but for what?
Exhaling with frustration, she pointed to his body and then the hose before nodding and shaking her head in an exaggerated way. He understood finally. She was asking for permission to clean him. The simple act of seeking permission surprised him. Since being captured, he had been at the total mercy of others. To have this small choice to make felt somewhat liberating.
He gave her a firm nod and waited to see what she would do next. After testing the water on her hand, she made a shivering motion to let him know it was cold. She waited to see if he would change his mind. When he didn't make any move to stop her, she carefully sprayed his body. The frigid blast made his teeth chatter and his heart stutter, but he was happy for the chance to be clean.
Careful not to openly watch her, Terror used his peripheral vision to keep track of D.D. She wasn't skittish around him and that raised his suspicions. He wasn't the sort of man who inspired calm in women. One look at him—with his ruined eye and puckered, scarred eyelid—and most of them blanched.
But she wasn't looking at him with fright. Her gaze was almost clinical. What was she thinking? Was she counting the many scars marking his body? Was she trying to figure out how they had been caused? Knives, shivs, bullets, fire, shrapnel…
Fuck, he had long ago lost track.
As she set aside the hose and grabbed soap and a rough looking washcloth from her satchel, he began to form a new opinion of her. This situation was too neat. She was too beautiful and too enticing to be true. This had setup written all over it.
Starved for affection, weak with hunger and frail from torture, Terror was a prime target for a black widow type agent. He had trained enough of them in his many years in Shadow Force to know how she would operate. This vulnerable woman with her hearing impairment and angelic face would find a way to get under his skin. She would provoke those protective instincts so strong within all Harcos males—and then she would strike.
There was only one thing for him to do. He had to strike first. With his arms chained overhead and his ankles bound with shackles, he couldn't move but his time would come. When it did, he would take it without hesitation. He would snap that fragile neck of hers before she even had a chance to gasp with fright at being caught by him.
Forced to endure the bizarre and unsettling sensations of being washed by a strange female, he kept his gaze fixed on the far wall. She didn't try to touch him inappropriately or even to arouse him. Her skin never made contact with his because she kept the rough cloth between her palm and his body.
Although thorough in scrubbing him, she never once let her hands get anywhere near his genitals. She seemed to be going out of her way not to make contact with the more intimate areas of his body. Part of that he chalked up to virginal