Free Tiger Eye by Marjorie M. Liu

quiet and thoughtful. Which was almost worse.
    “I once knew a girl,” Dela finally said. “An orphan. She was completely alone, as much as you. A very bad man kidnapped her, and hid her in a hole beneath his home. She stayed there for a week, in the darkness, and he did terrible things to her. Just terrible.” Dela swallowed heavily. “But do you know how she survived? She fought. She fought every time he came to her, and one day she got lucky and was able to escape.”
    “Delilah,” he breathed, appalled. “Tell me you were not that child.”
    Her smile was infinitely sad. “No, but Amy was my best friend. She’s dead now. After all she went through, she contracted some rare brain cancer. Didn’t last six months. But she fought that, too.”
    Silence descended. The moral of her tale was painfully clear, and Hari could barely stand to look at her as his anger leaked away, down his belly through his toes.
    “You shame me.”
    “I play dirty.” Dela touched his arm, her fingers gliding down his skin. “And I’m not ashamed of it, especially if it keeps you going. You’ve lived for two thousand years, Hari. What’s a couple more, especially now, when you’ve got a friend?”
    “Friend?”
    Dela pointed at herself. “If anyone needs one, it’s you. Unless, of course, you prefer to go it alone.”
    “It is what I am used to,” he said, finding it difficult to speak.
    She smiled, and it was too much. Their kiss had been powerful, but Dela had a way of overwhelming him with her actions and words that was completely terrifying. Hari was twice her size, but he knew, even without the curse, that this woman could bring him to his knees with her voice alone. With a smile.
    Hari made room for Dela at the window.
    “I bet this looks strange to you, huh?” And then, when he did not immediately answer, she said, “You told me the spell can only be broken by finding your skin.”
    Hari sighed. “It has been two thousand years, Delilah.”
    “Well, what is it? Fur?”
    Hari had to laugh. “No, not fur. When the Magi stole my skin, he stole a piece of my heart. A piece of my heart, in the shape of my sister. To find my skin, I have to find my heart, and I do not know how to do that with my family dead.”
    “Would it help if you found others of your kind?”
    “I doubt it.”
    Dela quirked her lips. “At least we’re not looking for some mangy piece of hide that’s been buried for two thousand years in some godforsaken jungle.”
    “There is that,” he said dryly.
    She smiled. “Everything has an answer, Hari. Even your heart.”
    “And in the meantime?”
    “In the meantime, I show you this world. I take you home.”
    “And if there are no answers?”
    Dela touched his face. Her fingertips were cool, light as butterfly wings. He wanted to kiss her palm. “Then you live, Hari. You live, with all the time you’ve got, and the life you want.”
    Dela turned away from him, and it took all Hari’s willpower not to wrap his large hands around her waist, to hold her against his body. He wanted to share something intimate, if only for a moment. He was so hungry for such things, for some soft touch. Before, when he kissed her, he’d thought one taste would be enough, but he now realized his mistake.
    Be careful , whispered his mind, a litany not powerful enough to suppress the emotions and desires he thought long dead, shrugging free of the places he had buried them. Dela’s presence was the key. She made him want more. She made him believe freedom was a possibility. She made him want to live again.
    Stories and lies , he told himself, but he did not care.
    How beautiful , he thought, his doubts and fears falling silent as he watched Dela rummage through her bags. Perhaps I do have a friend.
    I am losing my mind , Dela thought, watching Hari disappear into the bathroom to finish the soak that had been interrupted by both assassin and meal. He seemed clean enough; she suspected he just wanted to put some