Page 94

Arezoo was trying hard not to think about the things that had been done to them, leaving them hazy in semi-lucid, drugged memories, but she knew she'd been hurt. If the clan hadn't rescued them, they would have been forced into becoming breeding stock for immortal warriors.

"Actually," she said, setting the mug back on the counter with trembling hands. "Would you mind? I need a moment."

Aliya took the coffee. "Sure. No problem."

As the Kra-ell female delivered the coffee to Ruvon, Arezoo stepped into the tiny employee bathroom in the back of the hut and locked the door behind her. She leaned against the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Her face looked the same as always—the same dark eyes, high cheekbones, and determined chin. But the world around her had changed irrevocably. She'd thought that she'd left the nightmare behind, but the ghosts had chased her even here, to the immortals' hidden paradise.

Logically, she knew that Aliya was right at least about the former Doomers being sworn to protect the village. They wouldn't be living here among the immortals if they were up to no good. But Arezoo had a hard time believing that the evil they'd been a part of could be washed away with time and good behavior.

Another shiver ran through her, this one harder to control. She gripped the edge of the sink, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths. She couldn't afford to fall apart, not here, not now. Her mother and sisters depended on her to be strong. She had to adapt, to show them that they could all thrive in this new place.

But how could she feel safe knowing that men who had been born to the Brotherhood, raised with hate, and brainwashed with evil, walked the same paths, breathed the same air, sat at tables that she was expected to serve with a smile?

The gentle tap at the door startled her. "Arezoo?" Wonder asked. "Is everything all right in there?"

"I'll be out in a minute," Arezoo called, splashing cold water on her face. She dried her hands and face with a paper towel and unlocked the door.

Wonder still stood outside, concern evident in her expression.

"I'm sorry," Arezoo said. "I just needed a moment."

"No need to apologize," Wonder said gently. "Aliya told me about your reaction to Ruvon."

"It's fine," Arezoo lied. "I just need to mentally adjust to them being here and posing no threat."

Wonder studied her face. "Your family suffered at the hands of the Brotherhood. It's natural to be wary of anyone associated with them, even if they've changed allegiances."

"Have they, though?" Arezoo asked before she could stop herself. "How do you know that they have really changed?"

"I'd bet my life on it." Wonder put a hand on her chest. "But your feelings are valid, and no one expects you to be comfortable around them right away." She squeezed Arezoo's shoulder. "If you'd prefer not to serve any of Kalugal's men, just say the word."

The understanding in Wonder's voice nearly undid Arezoo's composure. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry to be so difficult on my first day."

"You're not being difficult," Wonder assured her. "You're being human. Well, mostly human." She smiled. "Take a few more minutes if you need them, then come back when you're ready. The afternoon rush won't start for another hour or so."

After Wonder left, Arezoo leaned against the wall and tried to reconcile her new reality. The village wasn't the perfect sanctuary she'd imagined. It housed victims—her and her family and others, and former perpetrators, Doomers, offering second chances to those who'd once served darkness.

She wasn't sure she was ready to extend such grace, especially to men who'd been part of that organization, but neither could she retreat. This was her new home, for better or worse, and she needed to learn to live with its reality.

39

FENELLA

Fenella studied her reflection in Shira's full-length mirror, adjusting the black blouse she'd 'purchased' from Jasmine's seemingly endless wardrobe. Paired with black jeans, it meant she was ready for her first night tending bar at the Hobbit.

"Not bad for a seventy-three-year-old," she murmured to herself as she struck a pose to admire her profile.

Her belly was flat, her breasts were perky even without a bra, although she was wearing one now, and her face was exactly the same as it was fifty years ago.

All thanks to Max.

Behind her, the bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam as Din emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets clung to his broad shoulders, and his hair was slicked back from his face, emphasizing his strong jawline.

"Hello, beautiful," he said, his eyes traveling appreciatively over her body.

"Hello to you, too, handsome." Fenella stretched on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.