If he’d punched her he couldn’t have more effectively knocked the breath out of her.
“I am checking for broken bones,”he responded to the question in her voice, demonstrating since he knew she did not understand.
What little doubt lingered in her mind vanished when he shifted off of her and examined her pelvis, hips, thighs, calves and her feet in the same manner.
She might have been relieved, more certain she knew what he was up to, but when he’d finished examining her bones he reached for the closure to her suit.
She tried to fight him off.
He subdued her and stripped her.
She had the satisfaction, at least, of knowing she’d given him a fight. He was panting slightly as he examined her skin.
This time, however, he was far less impersonal.
“Don’t even try to convince me you’re examining my breasts for injury!” she snapped when he cupped a breast with one hand and squeezed it experimentally.
He met her gaze for a long moment. When he looked away, he examined her cursorily with his gaze and finally released his grip on her arms.
To her relief, he untied her wrists.
Almost immediately, circulation began to return to her hands. She gritted her teeth at the pins and needles effect of blood rushing into her extremities and stimulating her nerves. When she opened her eyes again, she saw he was watching her.
He made a gesture that seemed to summon. She studied him suspiciously for a long moment and finally struggled to sit up.
It was more of a struggle than she’d expected. Every muscle in her body seemed to scream at once. Grunting, she fell back, trying to gather herself.
He surged toward her when she fell back, his expression grim.
It unnerved Annika since she didn’t know why he was looking at her like that.
To her surprise, instead of jerking her to her feet, he pressed her back against the bedding, shaking his head when she countered, trying to get up. She relented only because she could see she was in no shape to win a battle of wills that was physical—probably wouldn’t be on her best day with any man, let alone one as muscular as the alien was.
When he seemed satisfied she wouldn’t try to get up again, he left. He returned a few minutes later carrying a woven cloth and an earthen jug, which she discovered held water.
She wasn’t left long to wonder the purpose. He dipped the cloth into the jug and then rung the excess water from it and took one of her hands, lightly rubbing.
It was icy cold, but she doubted it was going to get warmer sitting in the jug and she caught the drift rather easily.
She was filthy—no surprise since she’d just been in a crash.
Horrific thoughts flickered through her mind, images, but she closed her mind to them, focusing instead on the offer for the comfort of cleanliness.
She reached to take the cloth from him. They struggled briefly over possession and then he yielded it to her. Surprise flickered through her and then relief.
After a pregnant moment, he rose to his full height, turned and left her.
She’d offended him, she realized uneasily. She was still unwilling to give up her independence or her privacy by refusing to be bathed by a strange man of another species. But she was also concerned about antagonizing the only ally she had at the moment.
“Annika,” she said on impulse. “My name is Ah-na-ka.”
He hesitated at the door and glanced back at her. She touched her upper chest with one palm. “Annika. I’m Ah-na-ka.”
He frowned, seemed to be struggling with the sounds she’d made. “Um Ah-na?”
She touched her chest again. “I,” she emphasized. “Iam Annika.”
He studied her for a long moment. She’d just decided she hadn’t managed to get it across to him that she had a name. Then he touched his chest. “Zhor.”
