Page 38 of Seasons of War
Shock and horror rippled through his body. Shouldn't her door be locked?
“Why aren't you in your room?” His voice sounded lethal even to him.
Kira stammered when she spoke. “Dr. Cooper… He said it's therapeutic. He said I shouldn't feel like a prisoner while I'm here.”
Guttural words crawled up from his chest. “Youarea prisoner.”
Deep concern knit her brows as she walked closer into the dim room. “You're covered in sweat.”
Zayne clutched the mug tighter, furious that Dr. Cooper crossed so many lines in one night.
“Couldn't sleep.” He worked his jaw, turning his back to Kira as he continued preparing the tea. “Exercise helps insomnia.”
She knew too much about him now, and not just that he survived reprogramming here. Even if Zayne pretended the insomnia had nothing to do with relivingthose memories, she wouldn't believe him. Just like she probably didn't believe he was sweating because of a late-night workout.
“You couldn't sleep either,” he said, wanting to break the silence for once. Zayne felt naked without his uniform or the clothes he'd strategically selected to hide his marks.
“No.”
She didn't elaborate. Of course, neither one of them could sleep. And of course, Dr. Cooper made sure they'd run into each other.
Damn that man.
Now Zayne was laid bare to her. She could see the sweat covering his body. The tension in his muscles and his expression. Worst of all, the tank top hid none of his markings from her. Not the snakes coiling around him, the soldier's band circling his biceps, the Phaedra's towers stretching up his forearms. So many scars she had no business seeing, each one betraying its own deadly secret.
It was pointless to return to his room and get a shirt now. She'd seen him when he wanted to remain hidden. That meant Dr. Cooper wanted her to see. And right now, Dr. Cooper spoke for the Phaedra. Retreating to cover himself felt humiliating and weak, and it defied the silent order to let Kira in. So, he forced himself to face her as he fought to ignore the flashes in the shadows. To ignore Edwards' piercing eyes flickering back at him, wondering why he left her behind.
“Tea?” The grunt of a word sounded more unfriendly than he intended. Though she hesitated, she nodded in the end.
It required all his concentration to walk to the table, place a cup for her near one of the chairs, and sit without showing his dizziness.
For the first time, he truly looked at her since she found him out here. She wore a lavender pajama set that seemed like the really soft material Mellie loved. He eyed the matching fuzzy headband that held the hair back from her face. She appeared far too comfortable for a woman at the center of the Phaedra's plot to end the uprising. Pure madness. Someone packed these clothes for her—probably a soldier.
A soldier trained for war picked matching pajama sets to fool her into feeling comfortable.
“Does that really convince you to let your guard down?” He raised his cup toward her headband.
Her right cheek dimpled when she smiled, and she looked down bashfully. “Oh, not really. It's nice having my own things, but it feels sort of creepy. All of this feels creepy.”
That may have been the point, in truth. Dr. Cooper found joy in deeply unsettling people.
“Thank you for the tea.” Kira had a soothing voice with a slight rasp. She tended to speak quietly when she wasn't angry.
In her lounging clothes, with the need for sleep heavy in her tired eyes, she looked especially tender and vulnerable. The neckline and capped sleeves of her shirt showed more skin than her prison uniform. Zayne trained his eyes on the table. What a stupid game they played.
“Do you mind if I stay out here?” she asked.
Very much. He didn't say it, though. The Phaedra expected compliance. “Make yourself comfortable while you're here.”
“If you don't want to stay, you don't have to.”
“What the hell.” He drank. “Might as well have a sleepover.” The cutting, sarcastic edge to his voice made her wince, and he nearly did as well. He had to stop being such an asshole before everyone saw he sabotaged his own mission. “It's fine.”
Her eyes fell down his arm then, and she didn't hide her stare. A flash of her hands smoothing up his biceps that night filled his memory, and the paranoia of the drugs flooded him with fear. What if she recognized him? Or worse, wanted him like she had back then. Was that part of the plan too?
“You don't tattoo your scars,” she said, eyes back on his. “There's no gold anywhere on you.”
He swallowed down a sigh of relief, seeing nothing but curiosity. Still, he expected her to mention his double seals before his scars. She'd most certainly never seen a single seal, much less two.
