air swept onto her face through the thin veil, a luxury like food to the hungry, but
she couldn't draw much in. She was tight all over, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth drawn in a
grimace as she braced herself for only the Virgin knew what.
Except nothing happened. He was with her still… she could catch his fearsome scent… and yet
he touched her not, spoke no other words.
She heard a rasping sound and an inhale. Then she smelled something tangy and smoky. Like
incense.
«Open your eyes.» His voice was all command as it came from behind her.
She lifted her lids and blinked a number of times. She was on the stage at the amphitheater,
facing outward toward an empty golden throne and a white silk runner that led up the hilly rise.
Heavy footsteps came around.
And there he was. Towering over her, bigger than anything she'd seen that breathed, his pale
eyes and hard face so cold she recoiled.
He brought a thin white roll to his lips and inhaled. As he spoke, smoke came out of his mouth.
«Told you. I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?»
Through a tight throat, she rasped, «Chosen.»
«That's what you are,» he snapped. «I want your name. I want to know your name.»
Was he allowed to ask her that? Was he-What was she thinking? He could do anything he
wanted. He was the Primale. «C-C-Cormia.»
«Cormia.» He inhaled on the white thing again, the orange tip flaring up brightly. «Listen to me.
Don't be scared, Cormia, okay?»
«Are you-« Her voice cracked. She wasn't sure whether she could question him, but she had to
know. «Are you a god?»
His black eyebrows came down low over his white eyes. «Hell, no.»
«But then how did you-«
«Speak up. I can't hear you.»
She tried to make her voice stronger. «How then did you intercede with the Scribe Virgin?» As
he glowered, she rushed to apologize. «Please, I mean not to offend-«
«Whatever. Look, Cormia, you're not into this mating thing with me, are you?» When she said
nothing, his mouth compressed with impatience. «Come on, talk to me.»
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
«Oh, for the love of God.» He pushed a gloved hand through his dark hair and started pacing.
Surely he was a deity of some kind. He looked so fierce she wouldn't have been surprised if he
called lightning from the sky.
He stopped and loomed over her. «I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. Goddamn, what do you
think I am? A monster?»
«I have never seen a male before,» she blurted. «I know not what you are.»
That stopped him cold.
Jane woke up only because she heard a garage door squeaking, the high-pitched whine coming
from the condo to the left of hers. Rolling over, she looked at the clock. Five in the afternoon.
She'd slept most of the day.
Well, kind of slept. For the most part, she'd been trapped in a bizarre dreamscape, one in which
images that were half-formed and hazy tormented her. A man was involved somehow, a big man
who felt at once a part of her and yet utterly alien. She'd been unable to see his face, but she
knew his smell: dark spices, up close, in her nose, all around her, all over her-
That bone crusher of a headache flared up, and she dropped what she was thinking of like it was
a hot poker and she was holding the wrong end. Fortunately, the pain behind her eyes eased off.
At the sound of a car engine, she lifted her head off the pillow. Through the window next to the
bed she saw a minivan back down the driveway beside hers. Someone had moved in next door,
and God, she hoped it wasn't a family. The walls between units were not as thin as an apartment
building's, but they weren't bank-safe solid by a long shot. And screaming kids she could do
without.
Sitting up, she felt beyond wretched and into a whole new category of dreck. Her chest was
aching something fierce, and she didn't think it was muscular. Shifting around from side to side,
she had some inclination that she'd felt like this once before, but she couldn't place when or
where.
Showering was an ordeal. Hell, just making it into the bathroom was a chore. The good news
was that the soap-and-rinse routine revived her a little, and her stomach seemed open to the idea
of some food. Leaving her hair to air-dry, she went downstairs and fired up some coffee. The
plan was to get her head into first gear, then return some phone calls. Come hell or high water
she was going to work tomorrow, so she wanted to
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