42
" The bathroom door opened. He turned as Lisa stepped out.
Leaving the light on, she pulled the door almost closed so a little light would illuminate the room for them.
Taelon turned off the overhead light and crossed to the bed.
Lisa faced him on the other side of it and fiddled with the edge of her towel. “My clothes are still wet.”
“Mine are, too.”
“I’m thinking there’s no way this towel is going to stay around me while I sleep.”
“Do you wish to sleep without it?” he asked, willing his body not to respond to just the idea of it.
“Um . . .”
“I can sleep on the floor.”
“Hell no. Not with those wounds. You’ll sleep in the bed with me. I’m just . . . not exactly an exhibitionist.”
He hesitated. “I don’t think my translator is giving me an accurate definition of that word.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You have a translator?”
“Yes. All members of the Aldebarian Alliance do.”
She studied him curiously. “Where is it?”
He pointed to his head, just behind his ear. “Embedded in my brain.”
“I’m surprised the doctors at the base didn’t remove it.”
“Their scans failed to detect it because it isn’t metal and appears to be part of my skull when viewed with your more primitive scanning devices.”
“That’s trippy.”
“That word isn’t translating at all.”
She tilted her head to one side. “What did it tell you an exhibitionist is?”
“A street performer.”
She laughed. “When I said I’m not an exhibitionist, I meant I’m not comfortable flaunting my naked body.” She glanced down and wrinkled her nose. “Especially when it looks like this.”
“You’re shy?”
“More self-conscious than shy,” she admitted. “I don’t know. I guess, despite my actions earlier, I just don’t want you to see me naked.”
Surprise coursed through him. “You don’t want ME to see YOU naked?”
Her brow furrowed. “Yeah.”
Taelon shook his head. “Lisa, you’re beautiful.” When she started to speak, he held up a hand. “I’m not saying that to put you at ease. I think you’re lovely. So much so that I’ve honestly been having a hard time keeping myself from staring at you too long.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes.” He motioned to the towel at his hips. “This doesn’t exactly hide my body’s response to you, so I’ve been trying to keep my focus from drifting lower than your pretty face. You’re beautiful, Lisa. If anyone should wish to hide his body, it’s me. I’m quite a bit thinner than I used to be.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?” She motioned to his form. “You have all that muscle.”
“I used to have more. And I’m covered with all these ghastly wounds and scars because I’m too weak to regenerate. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me or manage not to grimace when you touch me. So again, I will offer to sleep on the floor.”
She stared at him, unspeaking.
“I won’t be offended if you don’t wish to sleep with me,” he assured her. Assuming an exaggeratedly somber expression, he rested a hand over his heart and spoke in dejected tones. “I will just be deeply, deeply hurt.”
Her lips twitched, then she laughed. “You are so freaking likable.”
He smiled. “I feel the same about you.”
“Okay then. We’re both adults. And neither one of us is physically up to engaging in anything amorous anyway, so—”
“Well,” he said with a grin, “that isn’t precisely true.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Stop making me blush!”
He laughed. "
― Dianne Duvall , The Lasaran (Aldebarian Alliance, #1)
48
" You still aren't screaming."
"Is that the usual reaction you get when people realize you're, um..."
"Different? Yes, generally."
Marcus stepped up beside him. "We also get shrieks, curses, pant wetting, bowels releasing"--Sarah grimaced--"religious recitations..."
Her eyebrows rose. "Religious recitations?"
"You know--Get thee back, you, ah..." He nudged Roland. "What was it that priest called us?"
Roland rolled his eyes. "Which one?"
"The one in London."
"What century?"
"Eighteenth."
Sarah's mouth fell open.
"The one with hair like Albert Einstein?"
"Yes."
"Spawns of Satan."
"Right." Adopting a raspy elderly man's voice, Marcus shook his fist at Sarah and intoned dramatically, "Get thee back, ye spawns of Satan. Return thee to the bowels of hell where ye belong!" Lowering his fist, he proceeded in a normal voice."Then he hurled numerous biblical versus at our heads as we walked away...But screaming is by far the most common reaction, from both men and women. "
― Dianne Duvall , Darkness Dawns (Immortal Guardians, #1)
53
" Emma settled herself sideways on his lap and pulled his arms around her. “You’re strong, Cliff.” She held out an arm, flexed her biceps in an exaggerated show of muscle, and arched a brow. “I’m strong, too.”
His expression lightened. “Yes, you are.”
“Together, we can do anything. We can fight this. We can beat this. Even though you may think it’s futile, we have to give Melanie and the other doctors more time.” She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I know it’s hard, honey, and that things may get worse. But I’ll be here to help you through it. All of it.” She kissed him again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Those eyes of his brightened further as he dipped his head and claimed her lips in a longer, deeper kiss. "
― Dianne Duvall , Cliff's Descent (Immortal Guardians, #11)
59
" Releasing her wrist, he raised his shaking hand and brushed disheveled auburn hair back from her face. Her features were relaxed in sleep. Dirt-smudged. Damp with the tears she had shed for him.
At his touch, she made a sound somewhere in the back of her throat and snuggled closer with a sigh.
He didn't know who she was.
He didn't know who he was.
But in that moment, he loved her for freeing him.
The dog voiced a plaintive whine.
Speech still eluding him, he sent feelings of calm to the loyal animal.
Then, taking the woman's small, pale hand in his, he tucked it against his chest, pressed his forehead to hers, and succumbed to a deep healing sleep. "
― Dianne Duvall , Awaken the Darkness (Immortal Guardians #8)
