When Earth is conquered by the sinister Greys and the alien who killed Evie's husband returns seeking her help, she must find a way to enact her revenge and fight the growing feelings for the creature who is an exact replica of the man she loved.
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'Are you okay?'
I glanced back to look at the lifeless body of the Grey on the cellar floor struggling to process what had just happened. What he had done. He'd killed one of his kind. Plunged a knife right through its throat to stop it from attacking me.
Tom was still holding onto my hand, and I was acutely aware of his other hand pressing against the small of my back, keeping me steady on my feet.
He was so close now, our bodies barely a few inches apart.
'Evie, are you okay?' he said again.
I hated the unease in his eyes. Hated the fake concern.
Hated the fact he looked exactly like my husband.
There was not one small detail that wasn't Tom. I'd hoped to see something, anything, that would show me what he really was, but everything was exactly the same.
The shape of his mouth. The line of his jaw. The way his ears stuck out a little. He hated his ears, why did I have to think about that now? His eyes. Oh god, his eyes. The way he smelt and how it always made me want to press my face into his neck and just inhale. The way he would hold me and make me feel completely safe, just like he was holding me now, except I wasn't safe. Not anymore. None of us were.
'You're not hurt, are you?'
I blinked. Took a breath.
'N-no.' My hand trembled against his waist. Why was I touching his waist?
I shook my head, firmer this time and took a small step back, dropping his hand from mine.
Tom frowned, an imperceptible gesture to Jace and Lena, who were behind him, but I saw it and felt a stab of something that felt ridiculously like guilt. Loathing swelled fast and deep. None of this was real. I needed to keep reminding myself, every time he pretended to care, every time he faked his concern, every time he looked like an injured puppy with those damn eyes of his, nothing he did was real. It was an act. A cruel pretence. He didn't deserve an ounce of my guilt. That guilt was reserved for Tom alone – my Tom – not this thing pretending to be him.
Over his shoulder, I could see Lena climbing to her feet, the blood seeping through the bandage in her shoulder. I wasn't sure whether the Grey had done that when it had knocked her flying, or whether it had been my mad attack that had split open the wound again, but it didn't matter either way. She was pissed. Seriously pissed.
'You fucking idiot,' she said, advancing towards where we stood, thunderclouds in her eyes, and I took another step back, feeling the anger rolling off her in tumultuous waves.
My foot nudged the leg of the Grey and I gasped, sidestepping away from it as if it might rise from the dead and grab at me, although in that moment, I wasn't sure what would be worse: an undead alien or the mad-as-Hell Norwegian police officer. From the look on Lena's face, I probably would have bet on the alien as a preferable foe.
