“Do it,” I say loudly so he can hear me over the wind.
His hand runs up the side of my neck, coaxing a shiver from me despite the heat. Then there’s a crunching sound and a sharp pain. I massage the sore cartilage as he launches the device into the hazy abyss.
When he looks back at me, his face pales. “I hurt you.”
My fingers come away from my ear, tacky with blood. It’s not too bad, so I wipe my hand on my thigh and nod at his shoulder. “My ear isn’t the priority right?—”
“Youare my priority. Always,” he interrupts before turning his attention to the fence.
Three-inch diameter metal rods reach vertically into the haze above us, separating us from the dockyard beyond. Climbing it isn’t an option. I’m about to ask what the plan is when Vexar wraps his hands around two of the bars and bends them outwards with ease. My jaw drops. I know he bent the bars of the cage earlier, but those bars were tiny in comparison. This … this shouldn’t even be possible.
Scratching my forehead, I ask, “Uh, is that a new skill, or …?”
“New,” he says, waving me through the gap.
Gripping his arm, I let him guide me in a zigzagging pattern that makes no sense until I look up. “Holy shit,” I whisper. Massive shapes loom like foggy shadows in the swirling sand. They’re ships. Giant ships.
We stop a moment later, and Vexar says, “In. Quickly.”
Confused, I look around. Then I notice the ramp. But the ramp doesn’t seem to go anywhere; it just goes up into … nothing.Weird.
He gives me a gentle nudge, and I start up the ramp. Cold metal presses into my bare feet. I freeze. That familiar metallic scent burns my nose.Heart races. Panic takes over.No, no, no.I start backing down the ramp.Need to get away.Something stops me. I spin, ready to dart past the obstacle, but it’s not an obstacle; it’s Vexar. He’s knelt at the base of the ramp, staring up at me with sad eyes. His hands grip my waist. I try to move, but he’s too strong.
“Amara,” he says gently. “It is not safe out here. We have to get on this ship.”
My head shakes, mouth moves, but no sound comes out. I can’t do this. I can’t get on another spaceship. I should have known this would be a problem. He’s going to have to leave me here. Every cell in my bodyknowsif I get on that ship, I’ll die. It will be the end of me.
“I am sorry,” he says, and then his hands tighten around my waist, sending a fresh surge of panic through me. I know what’s about to happen. He’s going to pick me up. He’s going to force me on that ship.
“No!” I scream. I try to push him away, but my hand hits his wounded shoulder, and he flinches. I freeze, watching as he tries to hide the pain, but he can’t. It’s written all over his face. As clear as anything I’ve ever seen. His bright green eyes tense, lips press together in a tight line, and a deep furrow digs between his brows.
What the fuck am I doing?
The panic vanishes, embarrassment hits, and then purpose takes over. I narrow my focus on his shoulder, at the blood dripping from his elbow, and I let everything else disappear. If I don’t stop that bleeding, he might lose consciousness, and I’ll have no way of getting him out of danger. We have to move. Now.
“Up the ramp,” I order.
Vexar looks confused, but I shake my head and lead the way, ignoring the intense roar of blood in my ears. I’m shaking and ready to vomit, but I keep moving. Cold metal burns my skin, desperate to drag me back to that box, but I justkeep focusing on Vexar. On his injury. On the way he tried to hide his pain so I wouldn’t feel guilty.
We reach the top of the ramp, and I start pulling at the buckles on his axe-holder-thing.
“Amara,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “No. If you’re going to fly us?—”
“Amara,” he interrupts.
I let out a frustrated growl. “Unless you want me to be completely fucking useless for the rest of the day, you’re going to stop looking at me like that and let me do my god damned job.”
He looks conflicted, but after a moment, he glances down and says, “Your hands are still shackled.”
Once my hands are free,I manage to convince Vexar to sit in one of the two bucket seats on the bridge. He put up quite the fight, insisting that he take care of my feet first, but I’m not the one who has to fly us out of here.
“Are you ok?” he asks, watching my shaking hands.
“I’m fine.” Or close enough. The ship is less … ship-like … than I expected, and if it weren’t for that faint metallic scent and the cold metal deck beneath my feet, I might be able to forget it’s a ship at all. My adrenaline’s still pumping, and every sound keeps making me jump, but I’m focused on getting Vexar stable enough to fly. That’s all I can do right now.
The ship’s med-kit is well-stocked but confusing. Most of the items are things I’ve never seen before, and everything’s labeled in Vhorathi. After some digging, I manage to find a couple of pre-loaded syringes that look a lot like morphine shots. I hold them up. “Are any of these for pain?”
