screens. “What is this female
to you?”
Tyr’s heart stuttered in his chest and
almost stopped beating. The camera trained on the basement car park showed a
large male striding across the lot. The brute’s large hand grasping the creamy,
delicate skin of the very woman Tyr’s instinct screamed at him to protect at
all costs. He barely knew her, had only spoken with her twice, yet the link
between them was a cosmic calling card that Tyr could not deny. She appeared
slightly groggy and her small frame stumbled as she was ushered through the
entrance. Tyr’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening in barely
contained fury. If they hurt her… Abrasax was regarding him intently. Don’t
give anything away.
“Looks like one of my so-called lawyers.”
Tyr spoke casually, his tone measured. “What’s she doing here? You need legal
advice for something?”
“No, but insurance is always useful,”
Abrasax replied. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Somehow Tyr managed to remain impassive,
gritting his teeth as Abrasax spoke into a mic on his desk. “Take our lovely
guest to the red room.” He turned to face Tyr. “Now I suggest you take a seat
and we can discuss some of the answers to your many questions.”
Chapter Ten
Irina stumbled groggily through the open
door, having been all but dragged from the car by the inhuman male with scary
yellow eyes. Her brain was still cloudy from the drug, her vision blurry and
her head felt like a thousand hammers were pounding and executing a tap dance
on her optical nerves. As her vision cleared, she realized the door behind her
had shut and she had been left alone in an opulent penthouse room, every
surface of which was a different shade of red.
The walls, bed, sofa all varied from
crimson to scarlet, from maroon to vermillion and shades in between. Someone
obviously had a penchant for red. She wondered why, her heart speeding up as a
nasty thought intruded—it would certainly be easy to hide any stains. A chill
of fear washed over her. Where the hell was she? Who had taken her?
There was a large mirror against one wall
and on the opposite side five TV screens flickered with a variety of images but
no sound. It was then as her still blurry eyes began to focus, her vision
sharpening, that she recognized the figures on the screens. Her heart jumped
into her throat, choking her, leaving her gasping for breath. He was
here.
Tyr Bellor’s face stared back at her from
the screen, black eyes dark and forbidding. Each monitor viewed the scene from
different angles. She saw his profile, the hair curling on the nape of his
neck, broad shoulders and hands that had touched her, protected her, cradled
her. Lifting her hand to skim the glass screen, she dropped her fingers in
surprise, realizing that the man with him was Aamon Abrasax. She remembered his
visit to the station. What was Tyr doing here with him? Her predicament—slash
that—her kidnapping, was this all because of him? Was her presence here a
result of her contact with an accused murderer? A sense of confusion and
betrayal gnawed at her gut, although why she felt betrayed by this man, a man
she really didn’t know, who owed her nothing, she could hardly comprehend. But
that connection, no! It had been real. Hadn’t it? She had felt it so strongly.
But for her own sanity maybe she ought to let it go. Sever the link. Cut
through and slice. But when it came right down to it, she wasn’t sure she could
let it go.
Glancing around, Irina searched for a
phone, but there was none. She tried the balcony doors. Locked. There was no
way out. She had to watch. Reluctantly, she reached for the remote and
increased the volume.
* * * * *
Tyr took a seat in Abrasax’s office, his
brain busily sifting through the information he had assimilated. He had grasped
that he was in an episode of The Twilight Zone , but as his life so far
had been a never-ending chaos of weird he could take that in his stride. He
didn’t believe in
to you?”
Tyr’s heart stuttered in his chest and
almost stopped beating. The camera trained on the basement car park showed a
large male striding across the lot. The brute’s large hand grasping the creamy,
delicate skin of the very woman Tyr’s instinct screamed at him to protect at
all costs. He barely knew her, had only spoken with her twice, yet the link
between them was a cosmic calling card that Tyr could not deny. She appeared
slightly groggy and her small frame stumbled as she was ushered through the
entrance. Tyr’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening in barely
contained fury. If they hurt her… Abrasax was regarding him intently. Don’t
give anything away.
“Looks like one of my so-called lawyers.”
Tyr spoke casually, his tone measured. “What’s she doing here? You need legal
advice for something?”
“No, but insurance is always useful,”
Abrasax replied. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Somehow Tyr managed to remain impassive,
gritting his teeth as Abrasax spoke into a mic on his desk. “Take our lovely
guest to the red room.” He turned to face Tyr. “Now I suggest you take a seat
and we can discuss some of the answers to your many questions.”
Chapter Ten
Irina stumbled groggily through the open
door, having been all but dragged from the car by the inhuman male with scary
yellow eyes. Her brain was still cloudy from the drug, her vision blurry and
her head felt like a thousand hammers were pounding and executing a tap dance
on her optical nerves. As her vision cleared, she realized the door behind her
had shut and she had been left alone in an opulent penthouse room, every
surface of which was a different shade of red.
The walls, bed, sofa all varied from
crimson to scarlet, from maroon to vermillion and shades in between. Someone
obviously had a penchant for red. She wondered why, her heart speeding up as a
nasty thought intruded—it would certainly be easy to hide any stains. A chill
of fear washed over her. Where the hell was she? Who had taken her?
There was a large mirror against one wall
and on the opposite side five TV screens flickered with a variety of images but
no sound. It was then as her still blurry eyes began to focus, her vision
sharpening, that she recognized the figures on the screens. Her heart jumped
into her throat, choking her, leaving her gasping for breath. He was
here.
Tyr Bellor’s face stared back at her from
the screen, black eyes dark and forbidding. Each monitor viewed the scene from
different angles. She saw his profile, the hair curling on the nape of his
neck, broad shoulders and hands that had touched her, protected her, cradled
her. Lifting her hand to skim the glass screen, she dropped her fingers in
surprise, realizing that the man with him was Aamon Abrasax. She remembered his
visit to the station. What was Tyr doing here with him? Her predicament—slash
that—her kidnapping, was this all because of him? Was her presence here a
result of her contact with an accused murderer? A sense of confusion and
betrayal gnawed at her gut, although why she felt betrayed by this man, a man
she really didn’t know, who owed her nothing, she could hardly comprehend. But
that connection, no! It had been real. Hadn’t it? She had felt it so strongly.
But for her own sanity maybe she ought to let it go. Sever the link. Cut
through and slice. But when it came right down to it, she wasn’t sure she could
let it go.
Glancing around, Irina searched for a
phone, but there was none. She tried the balcony doors. Locked. There was no
way out. She had to watch. Reluctantly, she reached for the remote and
increased the volume.
* * * * *
Tyr took a seat in Abrasax’s office, his
brain busily sifting through the information he had assimilated. He had grasped
that he was in an episode of The Twilight Zone , but as his life so far
had been a never-ending chaos of weird he could take that in his stride. He
didn’t believe in
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