The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1) by Krystle Jones Page A

been incredibly sensitive after the change. Water, which was basically all I had been taking in, was alive with minerals. I could literally taste the rocks and smell the scents of the forest and the earth off of it.
     
    But nothing came close to the sensations rolling across my tongue as I chewed the sandwich. Flavor exploded along the inside of my mouth and down my throat as I swallowed. There were so many palettes that my senses didn’t know where to begin. I closed my eyes and relished the taste. It was divine, the best bacon, lettuce, tomato, and bread I’d ever had.
     
    I hadn’t realized I had closed my eyes until a stifled giggle broke my attention from the sandwich. I glanced up to find the guard covering her mouth, her cheeks round with a smile. She was about my height and build, with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her military uniform was black and identical to Aden’s, only she had two chevrons and a skirt instead of pants, along with tall black boots.
     
    I quirked a brow and awkwardly wiped my mouth with my napkin. “Yes?”
     
    “ Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt your tongue-gasm.” A giggle slipped out toward the end, and I blushed as she handed me a paper cup. “But I forgot to give you a drink.”
     
    I muttered “thank you” and stood to walk over to her when I froze, picking up on something odd. It was hard to describe, as if someone was projecting his or her feelings into my body, but not so much that it tampered with my own. I stood there, “listening” to the thread of amusement underscored by a keen sense of fear.
     
    The woman eyed me warily, her hand sliding up to the gun at her hip. “Is something wrong, miss?”
     
    I shook my head, thinking I must be delusional from lack of food. I hadn’t been eating well, only regaining some semblance of an appetite these past few hours.
     
    “ No, nothing’s wrong,” I said, stepping closer and taking the cup from her. When my fingertips brushed hers, it was like I was “jolted,” the blur of her emotions sharpening under the lens of direct skin-to-skin contact.
     
    It’s her. I’m somehow sensing – feeling – her emotions.
     
    We only touched for a split second, but the residue of our contact remained on my skin like oil. Something flashed silver in the dim light, and my eyes glimpsed a set of keys dangling innocently from her belt.
     
    As I stared at those keys, an idea came to mind.
     
    It was ludicrous. I didn’t even know if it would work, and reality had shown me that we should place very little stock in the myths we’d been fed by Hollywood and the imaginations of authors. But short of knocking the guard out – if I could even land a blow – it was worth trying.
     
    Feeling partially idiotic, I focused on tapping into her feelings again, this time locking eyes with her. I imagined the connection as a string threaded by different emotions, except by looking her directly in the eyes I could sense her thoughts, as well. Though barely visible beneath the surface, I felt a twinge of sleep pull at me, through her, along with something about a ten-hour shift the night before with little rest in between. Her pupils dilated and her expression turned blank as she stared back at me, utterly transfixed. Both of her arms hung limp at her sides.
     
    “ Give me your keys,” I said, slowly and deliberately.
     
    Still holding my gaze – which was starting to burn since I didn’t dare blink for fear of breaking the connection – the guard reached to her side and gently pulled the key ring loose, depositing it into my outstretched hand.
     
    I tingled with excitement as I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal keys. “Switch uniforms with me, and give me your hair tie,” I ordered.
     
    She did as I said, unlacing her boots and zipping out of her jacket and skirt without a second thought as I stripped down to my underwear and handed her my prisoner’s garb, which she pulled on without hesitation. I had to