The Lasaran (Aldebarian Alliance #1) - Dianne Duvall Page 0,27

to dose me. My mind is beginning to clear, and my abilities to return and strengthen. When you entered the room, I thought you were either one of the butchers come to harm me again or a morbid curiosity seeker, so I projected the most horrifying image I could.

Her hands lowered enough to reveal the upper half of her face, now streaked with tears. She slid the base of the table that supported him a glance but did not look up, as though afraid to do so. Really? she asked hesitantly. It was an illusion?

Yes.

You’re the alien Brad told me about?

He didn’t know who Brad was, but… That is what they call me, yes. I believe they also refer to me as an extraterrestrial.

You’re not a monster? You don’t… really look like that?

I don’t. It was a trick. I was born with the ability to project images into other people’s minds and make them see what I want them to see. It was how I breached these walls without proper security clearance. But they caught me, and I’ve been unable to utilize that gift until today. He frowned. Or yesterday. It didn’t really matter. If you would but look up, you will see my true appearance, though I must warn you of my state of undress. The butchers haven’t allowed me clothing since they captured me.

Her eyes widened.

Chapter Five

Almost against her will, Lisa looked up at the table… and gaped.

The horrible creature, which had looked eerily similar to that thing in the Sigourney Weaver movie Alien, was gone, replaced by a man. A man who looked human. And as he had warned, he wore no clothes.

Her breath continued to hiccup from residual sobs as she stared at him. His auburn hair was long enough to pool on the table around his head. From her position on the floor, she spied a small bare patch shaved into it where the doctors had either attached electrodes or perhaps even performed surgery of some sort.

Reaching up, she gripped the edge of the counter behind her and clumsily stood, still unused to the extra weight she carried in front. He followed her movements from the corner of his deep green eyes, unable to turn his head because a strap held him in place.

A muscle leapt in a chiseled jaw coated with stubble a bit darker than his hair.

She let her gaze fall to his broad shoulders, arms, and chest. All bore quite a bit of muscle despite his long incarceration. His arms also sported multiple wounds. Cuts, some deep, some shallow. Raw red patches where skin and tissue had been removed. Burn marks. Needle punctures. But his chest was the worst.

A long, thick, angry red ridge began between his collarbones and traveled down his middle all the way to his navel, marking the place where doctors had opened him up and done who knew what to him in an effort to discover what made him tick. Black stitches held the flesh together, but they seemed… haphazard at best. She would’ve thought they would be neater than that.

She looked up and met his eyes. “You’re bleeding.” Red liquid seeped from the wound.

At least he bled red blood.

They were in a hurry today and didn’t take care when they closed me up.

She remembered wondering what he had meant when he’d said there was a monster inside him, too. Clearly he had referred to the doctors here.

What atrocities had they committed? What torturous surgeries and experiments had they performed on him?

Her glance skittered down the rest of him, away, back, then up to his chest.

He was totally naked.

Heat climbed into her cheeks.

I did warn you, he said in her head, amusement creeping in.

He had. Not a stitch covered him, not even a towel or blanket.

A white hazmat-looking suit lay on the floor. Bending to pick it up, she knew she shouldn’t stare but couldn’t seem to help herself as she drew nearer. Nausea rose that had nothing to do with her own issues when she realized just how many wounds marred his form. There was hardly an inch of skin that was unblemished. Raw pink patches stood out against tanned skin where tissue had recently been removed. Older, similar patches were in various stages of scabbing over. Too many bruises and cuts, some quite deep, painted his firm body.

She draped the suit across his hips, wanting to spare him the humiliation of being bare before her. She studiously avoided looking at his groin. She wasn’t sure she