He blinks. He looks stunned, as if he expected me to fight him. As if he expected the sai-ens teacher to argue with logic.
Then, a slow, devastating smile spreads across his face. A baring of teeth that makes him look breathtaking.
“Good,” he purrs.
He stands up, offering me a hand.
I blink at it.
I have a spoon.
And looking at the strong golden arm outstretched toward me, I realize something terrifying.
I think I might be in trouble.
Because I’m starting to think I might want to keep the alien who made it.
Chapter 12
MY SUBCONSCIOUS HAS ZERO CHILL
MIKAELA
The spoon is the last clear thing I remember.
After that, the mountain turns into an oven.
We leave the safety of the tunnel and continue on the path, and it’s like walking into a dragon’s throat. The humidity hits us first. Thick, wet, and smelling of ancient copper. Then the heat.
It’s not just warm. It’s stifling.
My fever, which had been a manageable hum, roars into a scream.
Time gets slippery. I don’t know how long we walk. I just know that my legs stop feeling like legs and start feeling like lead weights I have to manually drag forward.
“Mih-kay-lah.” Sarven’s voice is rough, coming from somewhere above me. “Stay… awake.”
“I’m awake,” I slur. “I’m just… melting. It’s fine.”
It is not fine.
The tunnel narrows. The ceiling drops until we are forced to our knees, then to our bellies.
A crawlspace.
If I weren’t so delirious, I’d be terrified. There are enough cave-diving accidents on Earth that tell me this is a bad idea. The rock presses down on us. The walls squeeze in. But mostly, I’m just aware of him.
Sarven is right behind me.
Because the space is so tight, he has to crawl practically on top of me. His heat radiates into the soles of my shoes, up my legs. Every time I stall, which is often, his shoulder bumps my hip, or his hand brushes my calf to urge me forward.
“Go,” he rasps. “Almost… there.”
I’m dragging myself over sharp stone, sweating through my tunic, dizzy with fumes, and my brain decides this is the perfect time to focus on how large he is.
He fills the tunnel. He blocks out the dark. He is a wall of solid, shimmering gold in the blackness, and he is the only reason I haven’t just lain down and let the mountain take me.
“Hot,” I whimper, stopping again.
