The Lasaran (Aldebarian Alliance #1) - Dianne Duvall Page 0,21

a rising fever.

Rolling out of bed, she waddled into the bathroom and turned the faucet. Cupping her hands beneath it, she bent over the sink and splashed some water on her face.

Ahhhh. The cool liquid felt almost arctic against her hot skin.

She splashed some more, then drew her wet hands down her throat. A shiver raced through her.

Leaving the moisture to air-dry, she straightened and studied her reflection in the mirror.

“You look like hell,” she muttered. She had already been fair-skinned to begin with. But now—after months in a coma in a room with no window—she seemed to have no color at all save for the blotchy pink both the fever and her tears had left on her cheeks. Dark circles beneath her eyes stood out starkly against the pallor.

Her gaze lowered. She had lost weight, too. The little bit she had managed to gain when her finances had improved enough for her to eat three meals a day had vanished, leaving her as lean as the scores of professional actresses who always looked fifteen pounds underweight. Skinny arms bracketed a beach-ball-sized belly. It just looked wrong.

The only part of her that didn’t look pitiful was her hair.

She shook her head. What an enigma. All of her life, her hair had hovered between a light and medium brown—mousy brown, some of the snotty girls in high school had called it—the same shade as her eyes. Thick and straight, it had defied curling irons, hot rollers, and everything else she had tried to add some of the pretty waves her friends’ hair bore. Once her mom had gotten sick, Lisa had kept it shoulder length. Slow to grow but easy to care for, her hair had been convenient if nothing else. Just wake up, brush, and go.

But now…

She turned her head to one side, then the other. Now it fell to her waist in luxurious waves so thick they hid the second row of ties on the back of her gown. And despite the cheap shampoo she’d been using since waking up, her hair was as shiny and beautiful as that of a model in a hair-conditioner commercial.

“So weird.” Grabbing the hairbrush the nurse had given her, Lisa started tugging it through the tangled tresses. She’d braid it to keep it out of her face and see if she couldn’t find a thread or something to tie the end with.

Muffled pops reached her ears.

Pausing, she listened.

More followed.

Frowning, she released her hair and left the bathroom. Was that… gunfire?

Wonk! Wonk! Wonk!

Lisa jumped about a foot when an alarm began to blare. Her heart started to race.

Was it Brad? Did they know he’d visited her? Had they caught him coming back for her?

More pops. A lot more pops. That was definitely muffled gunfire.

Surely they wouldn’t need so much just to stop Brad.

Her thoughts went to the deep voice that had spoken to her telepathically.

Was it Taelon? Had he escaped? Would he really come for her if he had? Could he survive all of that gunfire if he did?

Energetic movement in her stomach drew her attention to it. A cramp seized her.

Crying out, she braced a hand on the bed.

Beep.

Her gaze shot to the doorknob as it turned.

The door flew open. Brad raced inside, turned, and slammed it behind him.

“Brad?”

When he spun to face her, his face was pale, his blond hair ruffled, his eyes wide. “I don’t know what the hell is happening, but we have to leave. Now.” He lowered one shoulder, letting a backpack slide down his arm. “Here.” He flung it at her.

Lisa caught it. “What is it?”

“Clothes. Put them on. Fast.”

Hands shaking, Lisa unzipped the bag and dumped its contents onto the bed.

Brad stepped up behind her and started untying her hospital gown.

“What—?”

“Hurry, Lisa. There’s no time.”

Rifling through the pile of clothing on the bed, she grabbed a pair of plain white bikini panties. Her face flushed with heat when Brad yanked her gown off. She wore nothing beneath it.

Grabbing the panties, he knelt and held them open so she could step into them. “I’m sorry, but there’s no time to be embarrassed. You do the top half and I’ll do the bottom. My sister always had a hard time seeing her feet when she was pregnant.”

Nevertheless, Lisa knew her face must be as red as a strawberry as she grabbed a white sports bra and dragged it down over her head. Her breasts were so huge from the pregnancy that she could barely pull the tight fabric down