collided with the wall," he spat, with something that sounded like disgust.
Sarah's eyes widened. She slowly reached up to touch the back of her head. Flinching violently, she pulled her hand away quickly. Warm slickness covered her fingertips. She brought her hand back to her lap to stare down at the blood on her hands.
"You see?" the Dem snarled.
"You…" she trailed off, looking up at him. Horror flowed through her like ice water. She shoved at his chest, freeing herself easily in his surprise. She moved away from him quickly, her eyes dropping to look at the blood she had left on the front of his jumpsuit.
"You tried to kill me," she accused. She moved back again, as he stood from the bench. "You wanted to kill me?" She watched a strange emotion cross his face before it vanished.
"You think you are any different from the other humans?" he growled, prowling closer to her. "You are as loathsome as the rest of your disgusting species."
Sarah flinched back from the hateful words. Her eyes moved toward the door to his cell. "Please go your cell, Dem."
He did not move. His eyes narrowed, as he stood taller. "What can you do if I will not?"
Sarah heard the challenge, the pure aggression in his tone. She frowned. "I will make you go." Part of her shrank back at his expression, but something drove her forward.
She took several purposeful steps toward him, before her vision blurred. Head spinning, she stumbled, instinctively reaching out for something to break her fall. The room shifted around her, until large hands gripped her waist. Her legs collapsed under her and she blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of the fabric against her cheek.
"You will make me do nothing."
…
Her body was so light it was like holding nothing at all. He frowned down into her eyes and again felt a twinge of remorse. He snarled at himself for the emotion. She was a human. Her very humanity made her disposable. What did it matter if he accidentally injured her? Even as he thought it, he looked down at her small hands against his chest.
It had to be the marks. He growled under his breath at his stupidity in marking her. Without the marks, he would feel no remorse at harming her. Instead, her pain made him nearly sick. He cursed himself for what seemed like the hundredth time. His eyes scanned the room, landing on his cell.
Lifting her until her cheek lay against his shoulder, he adjusted his grip and carried her into his cell. She let out a soft moan of pain in her sleep, shifting against him. The remorse washed over him again. He viciously shoved it down, walking toward his cot. As he sat with her in his lap, he bit out a curse in his native tongue.
His eyes could not help but see the blue ator that swirled under her skin, proving her marks had taken full effect. He could almost see the damage reversing itself. Her bruises would be gone in a matter of minutes, her concussion soon after. Even with the marks separating her from the rest of humanity, he could not help but be annoyed at her fragility.
He looked away from his cell door, to frown at her. He snarled at the way his arms had chosen to cradle her without his permission. He tried to shove her away, but his body refused to obey him. If anything, his movement brought her closer. Grinding his teeth, he jerked his gaze away from her peaceful face. The same sick feeling returned to his stomach, as his mind replayed the events leading up to her injury.
He had watched Azzan and Balendin circle her, her wide, frightened eyes searching the darkness, as
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