“Eat it,” he ordered, his hand wrapped around the thin cylinder.
“Not hungry,” she lied, because she couldn’t think of food right now, even a ration.
He shoved it closer to her face. “Eat it, or I’ll shove it down your throat.” His dark eyes narrowed with promise.
“I hate you.” Wynn swiped it out of his hand just to get it away from her eyeballs.
“That’s fine. Wasn’t asking to be besties.” He faced forward again.
The urge to disobey, to just throw the thing over her shoulder, taunted her. She also didn’t doubt he would force-feed it to her, but why did he even care?
Refocusing on the static view in front of her, she transferred the knife to her left hand and ripped off the top of the tube to suck down the gooey paste. The acid in her throat and the rumbling of her stomach settled almost immediately.Know it all.Not that she would admit it aloud.
She threw the empty tube at his head. “There. Happy?”
A small streak of green goo marked his temple where the tube connected. Wynn sucked in a sharp breath knowing she’d gone too far and braced herself.
He tilted his head slowly, until his narrowed gaze captured hers in a death grip. She tensed.
He lifted his hand.
She flinched, the knife lifting in preparation.
He paused, then continued the movement until he wiped the smear from his temple.
“Ecstatic,” he murmured, then extended his hand toward her until he wiped the goo on the shoulder of her clean shirt.
When he faced forward again, she let out her breath so slowly it whistled.
He turned his chin slightly, but didn’t comment.
The longer she sat there, and nothing happened, the dumber she felt holding the knife. Her hand started to sweat, then cramp. Huffing out a breath, she gave up, and set it on the terminal in front of her, then pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins.
“How long is this trip?” she finally asked.
He was silent for so long she didn’t think he would answer.
“Not long now.”
Another silence descended. She broke it after a handful of minutes. “Why do they want me?”
Even though she was looking straight ahead, she saw him glance at her from the corner of her eye.
“I don’t know.”
She squeezed her shins tighter and rested her chin on her knees. A surging panic rose inside her, one she couldn’t stop with breathing alone. The blade of the knife glinted at her, tempting her to grab it and give herself some clarity with one nick of her flesh.
Not an option.As alluring as it had become during this psycho’s torture session, she wouldn’t allow herself to succumb to that need again. She’d promised herself.
Shutting her eyes, she squeezed them tight to remove the sight. But her breaths didn’t slow as she gasped filtered air. Hell, she was going to pass out.
Thwack. She jumped as something cool hit the back of her neck. Her eyes popped open, and she turned her head to find Sawyer staring at her, his brow furrowed as he held something above the collar of her shirt.
“What are you doing?” she croaked, and lifted a hand to touch what he held against her. A ration, but a larger, square one.
“Lowering your temperature,” he said, then dropped his hand to face forward. “It helps sometimes.”
The question of how he would know that was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. However he knew, it worked. The panic faded as she concentrated on this new point of contact.
