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“Dallin, relax. You’re having a panic attack.”

He clenched his eyes shut. Now he was having auditory hallucinations. Sloane couldn’t be here.

“Just breathe. Take it one breath at a time. I’ve got you. You have nothing to be afraid of.” A warm, soft hand pressed against the back of his neck just before he blacked out.

***

Sloane knew the signsto watch out for when Dallin was sinking into trouble. He’d flaked out on her several times, but she’d always been able to bring him around.

Not this time. He was unconscious.

She remained kneeling beside him, her hand pressing on the back of his neck, hoping it would give him comfort while his body figured out what the hell it was supposed to do.

When she’d heard him give the command to identify all the routes the crew had taken on the waystation, she’d sensed it would be a problem.

Dallin had no idea what he was getting himself into. And Sloane knew how some of the crew loved to shop when they got the chance. And party.

“ELVIS, run a systems check for me. I need to make sure the ship can get us to the waystation without any problems,” she said.

“The autopilot has been programmed to go there. We will arrive in six hours.”

“Great. Keep an eye on things. I’ve got someone who needs looking after.”

“Confirmed,” ELVIS said. “And I’m glad you came with Dallin. I should not have concealed his attempts to elude you.”

“You were only doing what he told you. Dallin is the one who’ll be in trouble when he wakes up.” Sloane went and grabbed a cushion, set it on the floor, then eased Dallin out of his seat and sat on the floor with him.

She wanted to get him somewhere more comfortable, but there was no way she could carry him to one of the pull out beds at the back of the ship. They were stuck in the cockpit.

She rolled him so his head was nestled in her lap and took a moment to get comfortable on the cushion. His breathing was deep, but his eyes continually fluttered as if he was having an intense dream and not enjoying what was going on.

Sloane let out a soft sigh. It just about broke her heart to see Dallin suffering. He might not have received a dose of the poison, but he was fighting his own terminal battle, and one she wasn’t sure he’d survive if he kept everything locked up so tight. If he kept himself so isolated for too long, something would break.

She knew Dallin blamed himself for what happened to him, but he’d only wanted to improve himself. It wasn’t his fault things had gone wrong.

Sloane smoothed a hand through his tousled shoulder-length hair. It was thick and soft, and she’d often imagined what it would feel like to run her fingers through it while he kissed her.

“ELVIS, decrease the temperature by five degrees. I’m burning up in here.”

“The temperature has been adjusted, but the ship is not overly hot,” ELVIS said. “My sensors show you’re running a temperature.”

“That figures. Everyone else has the same symptom. Except Dallin.” She grabbed the backpack he’d brought with him, took out anything hard, and then slid it behind her to make her position more comfortable.

Sloane closed her eyes and leaned back, still running her fingers through his hair. “How do you think I should punish you for sneaking off the Apocalypse without me?”

Dallin didn’t stir.

“I could refuse to work with you. Although you’d probably like that.” She pouted. Sometimes, he really made her believe he didn’t want her around. If he didn’t do the little gestures to show he gave a damn, she’d have abandoned her post a long time ago. But there was a good heart beating inside this beautiful body. A heart that belonged to her.

“How about I only make you work eight hours a day? You’d find that torturous.”

Dallin muttered something, but the words were too indistinct for Sloane to catch.

“You don’t like that idea, huh? I could only make you work weekdays and insist you take weekends off and come with me so we can have fun together.”

Dallin muttered again and nestled his head against her stomach.

“I keep meaning to force you into having a massage. They’re great for relieving tension. You get all the knots and kinks out of your shoulders.” She went to grab his shoulder and rub it, but stopped herself. Dallin was unconscious, and he wouldn’t appreciate being felt up by some horny human with an inability to take a hint. He didn’t even appreciate her touching him when he was conscious.