He brushed her soft cheek with his thumb. “Not well, I take it.”
Gemma pushed out of his hold. She let out an exasperated sound and shoved loose strands of hair away from her face. Without speaking, she snatched the wooden spoon from the glass bowl and finished spreading the filling into the baking pan.
“Gem . . .”
“Don’t. Not right now.” She glared at him as she yanked open the oven door to place the pan inside and grabbed hold of the metal rack—with her bare hand.
A scream tore from her throat. Christian swore as she jumped back and clutched her now-burned hand, dropping the food and shattering the dish, spilling its contents onto the floor. Heflicked on the sink’s tap. In seconds, he had her palm shoved under the cool water. She began to cry.
“Hey, it’s all right,” he said. “It doesn’t look too bad. Nothing a little nanocream can’t handle. We should have some leftover—”
“It’s not the burn. I don’t care about the burn,” Gemma said, her voice cracking. “I was going to soften the blow by making you dinner, but now it’s ruined, and I don’t know how to say what I need to say.”
Christian’s pulse raced.What the fuck happened when she met with Rami?
He swallowed. “Keep your hand under the water.” Without waiting for a reply, he hurried to their bathroom, grabbed the bottle of nanocream and a gauze wrap, and was back at Gemma’s side in less than a minute. He turned off the tap, took Gemma’s hand in his, and gently dried her blistering fingertips. If it hurt, she didn’t show it.
With as little pressure as he could manage, Christian applied the cream, and by the time he had her hand wrapped with the gauze, her tears had turned into mere sniffles.
“I’m sorry about your dinner,” she spoke softly.
In a different circumstance, he would’ve chuckled. Instead, he wiped what remained of her tears from her cheeks and led her to the white sofa in their living area. She sat sideways, her shoulder pressing into the back cushion. One leg was bent and tucked beneath the other, which draped over the edge. He mirrored her position but rested his arm along the top of the sofa.
“Talk to me,” he said, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear.
She swallowed, and the pain in her gaze twisted his gut. “The implant’s failing.”
It felt as if Illari herself, patron goddess of their galaxy, had punched him square in the chest.
Heat drained from his face. His lungs wouldn’t take in air. His worst nightmare was manifesting, and he wouldn’t be around for her.
Christian shut his eyes against the rage storming in his chest and squeezed the top of the sofa until his fingers ached.
“It’ll be okay,” Gemma said, stroking his forearm with her soft hand. “There’s a team going to the temple to figure out what was in that orb, so we can find a cure. And with you there—”
He jumped off the sofa to pace the tiny area.This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
“Christian—”
“I won’t be with you, Gem.” He bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he worked to steady his breaths. He couldn’t come undone now. He couldn’t release the fury that had been building in him since the day he’d held her near-lifeless body in his arms.
“What do you mean you won’t be with me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Christian stood upright and dug his hands into his hair. “Hawk’s dad is here, and he’s leading a team into Perileos in search of the rest of the Dissent.”
Several seconds passed.
“You mean in search of my sister.” There was no question in her words.
Christian looked at her then. Teary eyes stared back at him with a look of betrayal. She might as well have stabbed him in the heart.
“I’m sorry, Gem. I spoke with the governor afterward, but . . .” He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes against the onslaught of anger that threatened to take over all reasoning.
He’d promised himself after the day he’d yelled at Gemma—the day after she’d tried to kill Rami—that he would never allow her to see that side of him again. The side that came out inthe fighting ring or when he’d played the Falaichte’s games to protect his family.
But right now, he struggled to bolster his resolve to stay calm.
He growled, pacing again. “This isn’t fair. You’ve done everything right. You’ve fought to live, to stay whole, to stayyou, and now they’re forcing us apart when your implant is failing, when you could—” He didn’t dare finish the sentence. His throat tightened.
