CHAPTER SIX
Jaz’s pulse fluttered against his palm like a trapped insect—rapid, desperate, alive. He held her wrist firmly, studying the female who had been touching him while he slept. If he had been in full health, it never would have occurred. His mind was a fractured landscape of pain and confusion, memories surfacing in jagged shards that refused to fit together, but his instincts remained sharp.
She was still afraid. The scent of her fear was unmistakable—sharp and metallic, cutting through the other odors that surrounded her. Chemicals. Recycled air. And beneath all of that, the scent that made his nostrils flare and his focus sharpen in ways he didn’t quite understand.
But the fear wasn’t the only thing he sensed from her. There was something else, something that didn’t fit with the obvious reaction of prey confronted by a predator.
Determination. It radiated from her in the set of her jaw and the steadiness of her gaze despite the terror he could smell. She was frightened, but she wasn’t panicking. She wasn’t screaming or struggling or doing any of the things his instincts told him acornered prey animal should do. Instead, she was watching him with eyes the color of dark amber, far too intelligent for comfort.
His grip loosened fractionally, although he didn’t release her entirely. She made a small sound, and her free hand came up in a gesture that might have been placating. Then she spoke, and her words washed over him in a stream of almost-meaning.
“I’m Jaz, remember? I’m trying to help you.”
So close to making sense. The structure was familiar, the rhythm recognizable, but the sounds themselves were slightly off. Like trying to read text that had been blurred at the edges, or hearing music played in a key that didn’t quite exist.
He focused on her face, watching her lips form the words, trying to bridge the gap between her language and his understanding. She was speaking slowly now, deliberately, as if she’d recognized his struggle to comprehend.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Do you understand?”
The words still weren’t quite comprehensible, but he was sure she was telling him she meant no harm. Could he believe her?
More of his fragmented memories resurfaced. She had brought him here, dragged his injured body out of the storm, and she had been caring for him. The evidence was all around—the bandages wrapped around his torso, the tube draining fluid from his chest, the careful positioning that kept pressure off his damaged wing. She had done these things while he slept, vulnerable and unconscious. If she wanted him dead, she’d had ample opportunity.
Instead, she had kept him alive.
He abruptly released her wrist, his fingers uncurling as if the contact had burned him, and she jerked backwards with a gasp. She stumbled slightly, catching herself on a nearby surface, and her hand came up to cradle the wrist he’d been holding.
Did I hurt her?
The thought brought an unexpected surge of regret. He hadn’t meant to grip so tightly or to frighten her more than she already was. But his body was operating on instinct, and instinct told him that unknown creatures in close proximity were dangerous until proven otherwise. Even small soft females with delicious scents.
She was speaking again, her voice softer now, the fear in her scent beginning to fade into something more like concern. And still that stubborn determination that seemed to define her.
“—can you understand me? Anything at all?”
He forced his throat to work, pushing past the pain and dryness to produce sound. What emerged was a rough croak, barely recognizable as language, but she seemed to take it as progress. Her eyes brightened, and she leaned forward slightly despite her obvious wariness.
“That’s good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
She moved slowly and deliberately, her hands visible at all times as she reached for something on a nearby surface. A container of some kind, filled with liquid. She held it up for him to see, then brought it closer, extending it towards him with obvious caution.
“This is water. To drink.”
Water.Yes. His body responded to the sight of the fluid with a surge of desperate need, his throat aching for relief. He reachedfor the container, and she flinched back before catching herself and placing it carefully in his hand.
Braver than he’d thought. The realization shifted something in his perception of her, and he found himself reassessing. She wasn’t prey, not exactly, but she wasn’t predator either. Something in between. Something he didn’t have a category for.
The water was strange—flat and lifeless compared to what he remembered, with an undertone of minerals that sat oddly on his tongue. But it was wet and cold and exactly what his body needed, and he drained the container in three long swallows before setting it aside.
The female watched him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Scientific interest, perhaps, the look of a researcher observing an unexpected specimen.
Is that what I am to her? A specimen?
The thought should have angered him, but instead it brought a strange sort of clarity. If she saw him as something to study rather than something to fear, that might work in his favor. She would keep him alive and healthy in order to continue her observations. And that would give him time—time to heal, time to understand where he was and what had happened, time to plan his next move.
He met her gaze and held it, letting her see that he was not some mindless beast. Whatever she thought he was, she needed to understand that he was aware and that he was watching her just as closely as she watched him.
“I don’t know if you can understand me. But I want you to know that I’m trying to help. You’re badly injured, and we’re stuck here until the storm passes.”
