Reawakened (The Reawakened Series) Read Free Page B

you’re doing in this exhibit,” I said, switching back to English while I knelt and threw my papers into my bag, “but you really shouldn’t be in there.”
    Hoisting my bag over my shoulder without taking the time to zip it, I kept my eyes trained on the sheets of plastic ahead while inching toward the entrance. I hid behind the displays until I reached the main walkway, still holding up the pepper spray in case the stranger jumped out at me. When the plastic sheet came into view, I scanned the area for a sinister shape, but nothing emerged from the closed-off section.
    Was the person hiding? Was I being stalked? “Please come out and explain yourself,” I called bravely. Keeping my back to the wall, I waited for an answer.
    What I should have done was leave and report what was happening to the security guards, but as I stood there, curiosity overwhelmed me and I couldn’t. If the person had wanted to attack me, they already had had ample opportunity.
    Perhaps he or she was lost. What if it was a transient who had wandered into the exhibit and was trying to catch a nap? Maybe it was an employee. Maybe they were hurt. I lowered my aching arm and slowly walked back toward the plastic curtain.
    “Hello? Do you need help?” I ventured. I didn’t sound as confident as I had hoped.
    I heard a sigh as someone came toward me. Even though I was no longer pointing the can of pepper spray, I was still clutching it, nervously running my forefinger in little circles over the trigger.
    “Who are you?” I asked again quietly, more to express the thought out loud than because I expected an answer.
    A hand grasped the curtain, pushing it aside as the object of both my fear and curiosity stepped through, mumbling an assortment of words that sounded very much like expletives in another language. Stopping just outside the curtain, he—it was most definitely a he—let the plastic fall and faced me with an irritated expression.
    Though we were in the darkest part of the exhibit, I could clearly make out the pleated white skirt that ended just at his knees and the wide expanse of a tanned and very bare chest. His bare feet were covered with sawdust. He seemed young, maybe just a few years older than me, yet his head was bald.
    Crossing muscular arms over his wide chest, he boldly looked me up and down and I got the feeling that he found me both surprising and disappointing. “Stay back,” I said, raising the can of pepper spray and feeling like an idiot for getting into this situation. He just raised an eyebrow and smirked, seeming to taunt me.
    Jabbing a finger toward me, he uttered something that sounded like a command.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t understand you,” I answered.
    Noticeably frustrated, he repeated himself, more slowly this time, as if he were talking to an imbecile.
    I answered back just as slowly, first gesturing to myself, “I,” then shaking my head, “don’t understand,” and finally pointing at him, “you.”
    Crying out in exasperation, he threw his hands into the air and kept them there. At that exact moment, the overhead lights came on. A little squeak escaped my mouth as I got my first real glimpse of the guy I’d assumed had been living with the relics. He was definitely
not
a transient.
    Who
are
you?
I wondered as I studied the person, who was not a man and yet not a teen. He seemed…timeless. Hooded hazel eyes, at that moment more green than brown, beneath a strong brow pinned me with a gaze that was both intelligent and almost predatory. I felt like a mouse looking up at a swooping falcon, knowing death loomed but utterly unable to look away from the beauty of it.
    His physical splendor was undeniable: brooding eyes, miles of muscles beneath smooth, golden skin, and full lips that would send any girl swooning. But there was something deeper behind the beauty, something very different about him that made my fingers itch for a pencil and paper. I wasn’t sure I could even capture the