RIKA
Gar stood over her, hands open and at his sides, his eyes wide. "Rika… what—?"
"Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!" she wheezed, scuttling back, away from him, until her shoulders came up against the trunk of a tree.
Gar froze, but he still loomed over her, his face painted in confusion. He reached one hand forward and Rika's chest exploded with adrenalin.
That hand had broken bones, broken skulls. Those arms, so thick with muscle, had held her like a kitten under one arm even while he fought.
There was blood on his knuckles, and his feet.
He was a nightmare walking.
"Rika," he breathed, that deep, quiet voice that she'd been yearning to hear for days. She'd dreamed about that voice. But she'd forgotten… she'd forgotten… he was deadly. Not human.
