He had a strong jawline and a square chin. His hair was a warm chocolate shade, shorter on the sides, and long on the top. It was the type of cut generally kept swept back, but right now it was shaken loose, and it hung off to the right of his head. Some strands fell down his forehead all the way to his mouth, they were so long. A ruby glinted in his right ear—no, three rubies: one at the lobe, another at the center, and one at the top, settled against the inner curve.
If the eyes hadn’t given him away, the outfit certainly would have. The shirt was sleeveless and zipped up the front with a golden zipper. The material appeared strange, thick and almost with a sheen to it. There was a short, stiff collar. His pants were formfitting, tucked into large boots, and there were three strange black metal bands circling his wrists and upper arms.
The pants were charcoal. The uniform shirt forest green.
The color of Vakar.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, clutching her arm to her. Her feet were squared—as if there were anywhere she could run. She recalled how easy fighting him off had been. As in, not at all.
It took all her willpower not to cower when he took a single step forward, eating up one of the five paces between them.
He cocked his head, and she clenched her jaw so tightly, she felt the pressure in her teeth.
“You’re still not talking to me,” he concluded after another tense moment of silence. Nodding to himself as if it made perfect sense, he looked away, moving over to the cot across from her. He flicked her jacket off to the side and dropped down, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
The move forced her to retreat back to avoid him touching her, and he lifted a single brow, the corner of his mouth turning up at the same time.
“We’re talking right now,” she bit out, determined not to let him scare her. Or at least not to make it so obvious to him that he did.
Rubber squeaked against the floor, and then another man appeared in the doorway. He was smaller than Ruckus, with narrower shoulders, but still taller than her by at least half a foot. He was wearing the same charcoal military pants tucked into boots, but a forest-green lab coat was thrown over it and buttoned all the way up the front.
“Lissa Olena.” He bowed his head.
“Olena—”
“Like I’ve already told you a million times,” she spat, cutting Ruckus off, “I am not Olena. Or Lissa, for that matter. Whoever the hell you’re looking for, I’m not her. How you can be so daft as to mix us up is beyond me, but I am not her, asshole. So, if you could just let me off this ship, we can go our separate ways.”
She’d almost lost her resolve when she’d said ship, but she had managed to maintain her superior air at the last second. Thankfully. The way he was watching her, like if he told her to jump he fully expected her to comply, was really beginning to piss her off. She hated being told what to do.
“I must admit…” He settled more comfortably against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “The look in your eyes? Almost convincing. Of course, we both know you’re being ridiculous. This is me. Not some easily manipulated Teller.”
“Whoever this Olena person is, I really hope she’s not your girlfriend, because if so, she really needs to reconsider her life choices.”
“My girlfriend?” He made a face like he’d just eaten a lemon.
Wow, pretty insulting for this Olena chick, she noted. Until she realized that if he was that disgusted by her, and he thought Delaney was her …
New tactic.
“What happened to my arm?” She finally stopped rubbing at it and dropped her hand so he could see her unmarked flesh. No doubt he’d seen it already, but still.
“I healed it,” he said, clearly thinking she was stupid for asking. “It wasn’t deep. You were lucky. We were able to extract the poison before it could do permanent damage. You’ve only been out for three cycles.”
“Wait,” she held up a hand. “Three what now?”
“Cycles.”
“What’s a cycle?” She clenched her fists when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious! What the hell is a cycle?! How long have I been here?” Feeling the panic rising up once more, she dropped down onto the edge of the cot, careful to keep her feet far from his outstretched ones. “Mariana has to be freaking out,” she said to herself. “She’s probably called the police by now.”
Unless, of course, she was still with Ottus.
Ruckus leaned forward, propping his arms on his knees. “They were going to kill you, Olena. The Tars are still upset about the arrangement. As soon as your parents and the Zane discovered they’d found you, they alerted my team and me.”
When all she did was frown, he moved back. “I promised you space, Lissa—not that I’d let you get yourself killed by your stubbornness.”
“Why does she have two names?” Delaney blurted, grasping on to the one part of the jumbled mess he’d just said that she could process. The rest of it was gibberish to her. “Is it like a nickname?” He’d said “your parents,” so they weren’t siblings. And they clearly weren’t dating. “Are you two related?”
He looked at her like he had back in the alley, that mixture of confusion and surprise. Like he was seeing her for the first time.
“Okay, whatever, don’t tell me,” she sighed. “Look, I don’t know much about aliens—Vakar,” she corrected, not wanting to insult him while she was trying to bargain for her life. “And I most definitely don’t know what a Tar is, but I do know that thing they shot me with hurt like hell. If they’re after this Olena person, then she’s still there. She’s still in danger.”
He continued to stare, and she fought the urge to stomp her foot like a child.
“Damn it, Ruckus—” She spun away and came face-to-face with the small rectangular mirror hanging over the sink. Only, it wasn’t her face staring back at her. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she completely forgot to breathe.
The girl staring back at her looked vaguely familiar. A dark-haired girl with milky skin. The same girl who’d bumped into her back at the club. Back in the dim lighting, Delaney hadn’t been able to make out her eyes, but now, like with Ruckus, it was easy. Gold, with a rim of deep violet.
Delaney blinked, and the girl in the mirror did the same. Just to be sure, she lifted a hand and pressed her fingers against her cheek, almost painfully. Finally recalling that air was necessary, she gasped, the sudden intake making her feel light-headed and woozy. She stumbled back and dropped onto the cot, shaking her head.
“I think I’m having a panic attack,” she admitted, though her voice came out breathy and weak, and she wasn’t sure either of them could hear her. She wasn’t sure she meant for them to. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, to the point that it felt as if there were a vice gripping her tight. “Oh yeah, definitely a panic attack.”
She’d never had one of those before; today was clearly a day of firsts.
She struggled to compose herself, keeping an eye trained between the two of them just in case. Now that she’d seen herself, she had a better understanding of why they were so adamant she was this Lissa person. But that didn’t mean she trusted them.
A device in the pocket of the smaller one still by the open door beeped then. He pulled it out and then frowned over at Ruckus.