She was even more beautiful up close, a fact that absolutely shouldn’t be possible and had utterly shorted his brain out. Thyaar stood in the doorway, blood dripping from his chin onto her floor, and stared at her like a complete, draanthing idiot.
She was small. He’d registered that from the window, but up here with nothing between them but three feet of air and one cast-iron pan, small hit differently. Very differently. She barely came up to his chest… all dark hair, storm-gray eyes, and a jaw set so hard it could have cut glass. Her hair had come loose, falling in wild waves around her face. Her frame might have been slight, but there was nothing fragile about the way she held herself. She had the stance of someone who’d stood her ground before and expected to do it again. Feet apart, weight balanced and weapon—pan—raised.
Gods, she was magnificent.
Then his nose throbbed like a warning klaxon, blood dripping off his chin at regular intervals. His nose was definitely broken. Again. He was fairly certain the bruising was already working its way under his eyes.
He’d had worse.
Right. He forced his brain back online through sheer bloody-mindedness. He had a mission. The mission involved the small, furry, orange animal currently sitting beside her on… was that a table or a shelf? Whatever, the cat looked deeply satisfied with the evening’s events.
“Well?” she demanded, lifting the pan higher, the cast iron catching the overhead light. “Who are you? What did you assholes do with my friend?”
“Do not hit me again.” It came out blubbery and wet. “You broke my nose.”
Her expression hardened.
“I’ll break every other bone in your face if you don’t answer me,” she growled as she lifted the pan higher. “Who are you? Where is Emily?”
He raised a finger, got a grip on the bridge of his nose, and snapped it back into place with a quick, practiced jerk. The pain dropped to a manageable roar. He’d deal with the rest on the Vett’an. The automated medical systems weren’t anywhere near a full healer hall, but they could handle a broken nose, and that would save him the embarrassment of admitting to anyone that a human female who barely reached his collarbone had gotten the drop on him.
He wiped his hand on his thigh. He was already covered in who-knew-what… a little blood wouldn’t make a difference.
“To answer your questions,” he said, with what he felt was considerable patience given the circumstances. “Parac’Norr. No. Thyaar. And nothing.”
She stared at him.
The pan lowered a fraction.
“... that’s not an answer,” she said slowly. “That’s a list.”
“Parac’Norr is where she is. No, I didn’t kidnap her. My name is Thyaar.” He paused. “And I haven’t done anything to your friend, because I am here. On your planet. In your apartment.” He caught sight of his reflection in the dark window across the room and sighed. Great, he looked like he’d lost a fight with a drainage ditch. “Dripping on your floor.”
“Why is Emily on… wherever that is?”
“She’s mated to my brother.”
The pan went back up. “Your brother is the one who kidnapped her?!”
“No one kidnapped anyone.” He could feel a headache forming behind his eyes. Or that might have been the broken nose. It was hard to tell at this point. “It’s complicated. The short version is she’s there because she chose to be. She’s safe, and she asked me to come here.”
“Emily asked you,” she repeated slowly.
“Yes.”
“To come to Earth.”
“Yes.”
“To get her cat.”
“Yes.” Finally. “Yes, exactly that.”
The gray eyes narrowed. Trall. She wasn’t buying it. He opened his mouth.
“Breaking into my apartment,” she said.
He closed it again.
