It was the moment Theodora had been waiting for.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear her gaze away from Armand. His eyes were vivid green, glittering like cut glass.
Or maybe like gems. His lips were set into a firm line, and he moved with both strength and resolve. Theodora watched him stride closer and her determination to resist him dissolved a little bit more with every step he took.
He unfastened his pseudoskin and cast aside his gloves. He pushed the dark polymer over his shoulders and tugged the sleeves over his wrists. Theodora looked. His skin was tanned, firm, healthy, the auburn hair on his chest curly. There was dried blood on the bandage on his shoulder, but the flow seemed to have stopped—and the injury didn’t seem to trouble him. She watched his muscles fle
