The female in Kirr's arms started struggling, her small body twisting with desperate strength. "Delilah!" Her voice came out raw, broken. "Delilah, please?—"
She was trying to reach the driver. Trying to get to the other female—Delilah—whose blood soaked the front seat and whose too-pale face told Kirr everything he needed to know about her chances.
She started hyperventilating, her breath coming in sharp gasps that didn't fill her lungs properly. Her pupils were blown wide, her gaze unfocused. She wasn't seeing him anymore. Wasn't seeing the tunnel or the emergency personnel or anything except whatever horror was playing out behind her eyes.
"Standard sedation protocol," one of the human medics said, moving toward them with an injector. "PTSD episode, we need to?—"
"No." Kirr's command stopped the medic mid-step.
The human blinked at him, confused. "Sir, protocol for panic attacks?—"
"I said no."
Sedation would take away what little control she had left. Would shove her under and leave her drowning in nightmares with no way to fight back to the surface. He knew panic, knew trauma, knew the difference between someone who needed chemical suppression and someone who needed an anchor.
She needed an anchor.
Kirr shifted his grip, cradling her against his chest with one arm while his free hand came up to cup her face. Her skin was cold, tacky with drying blood and smoke residue. She was still gasping, still shaking, still trapped somewhere he couldn't reach.
"Look at me, kelarris," he said.
No response. Her hazel eyes stared through him at ghosts he couldn't see.
"Hey.. .hey, look at me." He made it a command this time, his voice dropping into the tone that made warriors twice his size obey without question.
Her gaze snapped to his. Found his eyes and held.
"I’m Kirr… Now I need you to tell me three things you can see."
She just stared at him, gasping, her chest heaving with breaths that didn't satisfy.
He kept his voice calm, certain. "Three things. Tell me."
"I—I can't?—"
"You can. Three things you can see right now. Tell me."
Her mouth opened, closed. He watched her fight for focus, watched the way her hazel eyes locked onto his and held like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her head above water.
"Your... your eyes." The words came out broken. "Orange hair. Your... big hands."
"Good." His lips quirked at the comment about his hair, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. "Two things you can hear."
Her breathing was still too fast, but some of the glassy terror had receded from her eyes. She was here now. Present. Fighting her way back.
"My breathing," she gasped. "Your voice."
"One thing you can touch."
Her hand was already on his chest, but she looked down at it like she'd forgotten it was there. Then her fingers moved, pressing against his bare chest above his heart.
Skin to skin.
The touch blazed through him like wildfire. Her palm was small and cold and shaking against the muscle of his chest, her fingers spreading like she needed to feel as much of him as possible. He could feel his own heartbeat against her touch, steady and strong where hers was rapid and weak.
She took a breath. A real one this time, deep enough to fill her lungs properly.
Then another.
