Honor sat at the only other table in the joint. It didn’t look as if it had ever been cleaned. She started to unwrap the meal, but she found that she could not. Her hands shuddered as a palpable wave of anxiety passed through her. Her breath caught, and for a moment, she struggled for the next one.
Honor swung around to find the source. The anxiety was not her own.
The three men at the table. The black haired girl who hung back near the door with her eyes narrowed and fastened on Honor. Malak, behind the counter, watching with serious concerned eyes.
Honor lay her hands flat onto the surface of the sticky table in an effort to steady herself. The sensation was stronger now. Anxiety, and fear. Pleasure, and anticipation. Honor pushed herself up from the table, legs spread apart. The upended chair clattered as it hit the floor, but Honor did not hear it. Despite the effort, her stance still wavered. Her head felt as if it was being compressed by hot air. Perspiration beaded her face.
Someone was doing this to her.