Divine Charity

Chapter Three: Well Hello There!

The confused haze swallowing her thoughts didn't clear easily. The room was quiet, except for the soft snoring of someone off to her left. Khamuel. Lena knew he had not left her side for any longer than necessary. In this dark, almost dreamlike state, she could accept anything, and didn't feel she was losing her grip on sanity. They could speak here. She could bask in his warmth and cling to him unselfconsciously. She was afraid that if she opened her eyes, she would learn every bit of their closeness was just a dream-induced coping mechanism.

Even though her eyes remained closed, her mind cleared, and she realized that while unconscious, she accepted her psychic tether to Khamuel as real; unafraid of it, although she was taught not to believe in such things.

She supposed it was a perk of being unconscious for so long. It allowed for her subconscious to come to grips with what now was. In just a few moments of wakefulness, Lena lost her fear of insanity, and even her disbelief of the impossible. What choice did she have? In order to get back to her girls, Lena needed to face whatever was happening. She needed to get a grip on herself and just open her damned eyes. She couldn't help but hesitate.

What did he look like? His voice when it was in her head was a deep, gravelly baritone, concise in his diction. He spoke an odd mixture of olde and modern English with a Scandinavian-esque burr, and seemed like someone who was in the habit of thinking before speaking. Often, his replies to her were delayed as he made sure his words were just right. He sounded handsome. Which meant he probably wasn't.

Finally, she braved her first truly conscious decision to open her eyes. The room was barely lit with a pink light, but it was enough to send a brief stab of pain through her head as her eyes adjusted. Turning her head slightly, she expected to feel more pain, but none came. The only thing affecting her was the lethargy of being medicated.

There he was; sitting so close to her bed she could touch him.

Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes settled on him. No darkness to obscure his size or appearance. No loss of vision to hide his physique. She saw the man.

The very pearlescent man.

There was no other way to describe him. His skin, tinged with pink and gray undertones, glowed softly under the dim lighting in the room.

He. Actually. Glowed.

A pale, pinkish hue emanated from him, stretching only inches from his body.

Alien. There was no doubt he was an alien like Kiara, but of a different species. Despite his skin-tone, he looked remarkably human. His head was slack against the back-rest, his arms folded in front of him resting on his diaphragm, legs out-stretched and crossed at the ankles. She recognized the sleep position. It was one she observed thousands of times in the military. This was a man used to sleeping in uncomfortable places. Was he a soldier? A mercenary? A space pirate?

Lena wasn't proud of it, but the thought of being kidnapped by space pirates as handsome as this man seemed kind of exciting. Metallic silver streaked through his pale white hair and along his forehead was an artistic branding, the scars dyed in red and black. A small, thrilling chill ran down her spine as she realized he was the type of man that could suffer that kind of pain in silence. His Nordic good looks surprised her; as if he belonged on some icy tundra dressed in animal furs and carrying an axe or sword. An Ice King.

At some point, his nose had been broken, and that small bit of imperfection added to his appeal. With high, defined cheekbones, she couldn't make out the shape of his chin as he had a full, well-trimmed mustache and bushy beard covering the lower half of his face, but his lips were full and parted softly in sleep. He was gorgeous, not to mention large! The man had to be at least seven feet tall.