Page 20 of Alien Burn

“You have no idea who I am.”

Roemary stood over the red-haired woman Stron had carried. Adryel, someone had called her. She was standing near the medical queue, one hand pressed to her side.

Dhomhes stopped on his way past.

“Oh stars, here we go,” Adryel said.

Roemary drew herself up. “You cannot imagine what I've endured--”

“Stop it right there. Listen, goddess--”

That got a reaction. Roemary put a hand to her chest, but Adryel was already talking over her.

“I don't care who you are, or what you had to endure. I promise you, I've been through worse. And the fact that you'd dare compare your lack of a manicure or whatever to being kicked out when you're a kid, living on the streets, and one last hope being this program, then you truly are the most self-centered female on this planet. Hell, in this galaxy.”

People nearby had stopped their own conversations.

Dhomhes could order Roemary away. He could also give her a reason to leave that she would find more appealing.

He stepped between their lines of sight with his most agreeable smile.

“Ladies, is there a problem?”

Roemary turned. The outrage disappeared.

“No, of course not. We were only speaking.”

“Come,” he said, offering Roemary his arm. “Walk me around the floor and introduce me to all the lovely ladies.”

He caught Adryel's eye and winked.

She stared at him. Then her gaze moved to Roemary, whose hand had settled on his arm.

He guided Roemary away before either woman could say more.

For the next several minutes she was helpful. Names, cabin arrangements, who had traveled with whom. She knew more about the volunteers than he had expected and was happy to demonstrate it, especially when he remembered to look impressed.

At the far end of the hall, he saw the woman in gray again.

She sat on a bench where two walls met, with a clear view of the main doors. A dressing covered her knuckles now. She was holding an untouched cup of water.

As a medical cart passed, she raised her eyes, followed it to the door, and looked back across the room.

“Your friend?” he asked.

Roemary's hand tightened slightly.

“Sereya. She's had quite a shock.”

The name brought back the restricted notice. A changed identity. A family killed. He looked at the bandage across her hand.

This was a cruel place for anyone to have brought her.

Roemary beckoned. Sereya rose immediately, put her cup down, and crossed to them. Her dress was dusty along one side, the hem torn where someone had stepped on it.

As she came near, he caught her scent beneath the smoke on her clothes. He breathed in before he could help it. The ridges along his back lifted, drawing the torn fabric tight across his shoulders.

Roemary had been holding his arm for several minutes. Nothing. This female hadn't even touched him.