“It would seem the magic-bond did not see fit to grant me the same special healing powers as you.” I glance at the nearly healed wounds on his shoulder and shrug. “It’s fine. I’ll heal eventually.”
He tenses. “Maybe it is because we never finished thesasi-temwá? The blood-binding?”
“Why would you think that?”
He uses his teeth to tear another strip of tape from the roll. “Many things about our bond seem … incomplete. I can hear your voice in my head; you cannot hear mine. I am healing quickly; you are not. I have increased strength; you do not. And your eyes go black, but not fully. I do not know if completing the sasí-temwá would change things, but it might.”
Weeks pass,and we fall into a comfortable routine as we wait for a response from Steinarr. Every day, after we’ve eaten, exercised, showered, and reviewed some Vhorathi vocabulary, we sit on the bridge while I read. Vexar had the ship’s electronic library translated into English, and I’ve been learning as much as I can about the Vhorathi people, their medicine, politics, culture, and warfare, while looking for information on the Zhyrrak.
First off, Vexar’s physiology is way stranger than I thought. His super slow heart rate has a range of about 6 bpm up to 240 bpm. Also, he can breathe through his skin. Which is weird. When I asked if that meant he could breathe underwater, his answer was, “Sometimes.” So, there’s that. Unfortunately, we haven’t found much information on the Zhyrrak. The only mentions are buried deep in history books, and the references are either super vague or completely fantastical.
“I don’t know if we're going to find any more information than we already have,” I say as I swivel my seat while staring at the overhead. “Wait,” I frown, “is this a bridge or a cockpit? I mean, technically, this is aship, right? So it would be a?—”
Vexar clears his throat, interrupting me, and says, “Come here.”
I raise a brow. “Are you gonna giveme an answer?”
“In Vhorathi, we have only one term for this,gutejarve. I do not care what you call it in English.”
“Gutejarve?” That’s a weird one. “Well, I’m gonna keep calling it a bridge.”
“Perfect. Now come here.”
I climb onto his lap, and instantly, the anxiety I didn’t know I was carrying floats away. I swear, a single sniff of this man is like a hit of opium for my nervous system. My muscles relax, heart slows, and a deep sense of calm fills me.
“That’s better,” he whispers, letting his eyes close while his hands slide around my waist.
I rest my head against his shoulder and wrap my arms around his neck. “What do you want to do?” We’ve been talking about completing the blood-binding for a few days now. Neither of us really knows what will happen, but I can’t deny I’m curious. Curious, and a little nervous to mess with something that already seems pretty good.
His fingers trail down my spine. “I think this choice has to be yours. I have made enough decisions for you to last a lifetime.”
I lean back to look at him. “You didn’t make any decisions for me, the bond just … happened.” He didn’t mean for me to be covered in his blood and cut my knee. He had no idea we were going to bond at all. None of it was planned. Besides, the bond didn’t affect how I feel about him. Sure, it made me a little more desperate, but that could also just be from how touch-starved I was and how insanely hot he is.
He strokes my hair and says, “And yet, too many choices have been made for you.”
My teeth work over my lower lip. He’s not wrong, but this is a partnership. “If the choice were up to you, what would you do?”
He’s reluctant to answer, but does so anyway. “I would want to complete it.”
49
THE BLOOD-BINDING
AMARA
TWO MORE DAYS pass before I feel confident in my decision. Tossing one of Vexar’s giant shirts over my head, I walk into the galley and find my hulking alien holding a mug of steaming tea and looking absolutely edible in all his naked glory. My stomach flips as I take him in. Is it crazy to want to tie myself more tightly to someone who was a stranger just a few weeks ago? Probably, but I don’t care.
Every moment we spend together, I find myself loving him a little more. He’s a beautiful enigma. A flower growing in a cement parking lot.
He’s kind when he was raised to be ruthless. He’s courageous when he should be afraid. He trusts even when he’s been betrayed. And he loves harder than anyone I’ve ever known. It’s an all-encompassing, unwavering, full-bodied devotion kind of love, and when I think back to the time we spent in his cell—before either of us knew about the bond—I think he already loved me then. When he said I was “magnificent,” I felt it. I was a complete stranger, and yet, his love was already there. Like he knew what we would become.
“We should do it,” I say.
He lowers the mug of tea from his mouth and swallows. “What?”
“We should complete the blood-binding … uh, exchange … thing.” Damn, this man is distracting when he’s naked.
“Is that what you want?” he asks carefully.
