Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Khrys takes my arm. Now that we’re out of the downpour, the blood is more evident. “We need to wrap this.”
“It’s just a scratch. I can’t even feel pain.” I look with curiosity at the wound, then at him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” His voice is hoarse. I think he’s looking at my nipples, but then he turns away. “My skin is thicker than yours. The hail didn’t hurt me.” He removes his shoulder satchel. “I have a few emergency supplies.” He pulls out a cloth which he wraps around my cut. “There. That should close the wound.”
“Thank you.” I blink at the white wrap, trying to process what’s happening. How much has happened since the Kraa brought me to the auction.
The thunder roars and crackles, and the ground reverberates with the sound, the tremors going into my body and shaking my skull. “This storm is so violent.”
At the bottom of the hill, the dried grass turns to a churning river as water collects into a channel and hurtles past, tumbling boulders effortlessly. Hail shimmers like glass ornaments, bobbing by the thousands.
“That would kill us faster than the arrows.” I shudder from the sudden panic and the chill and the exhaustion. And the cold. I realize that the temperature has dropped.
“We’re high enough that we should stay above the water line. I hope,” he adds. He takes off his coat, reaches back into his pack and unwraps a silver heat blanket.
“Take off your clothes. All of them.” He looks at me through the dimness of the cave where the blanket catches what little light enters from the gloomy wilderness outside. “We need to let them dry. You humans are prone to hypothermia.”
“I…” It might be the shock of the situation, but I don’t move.
He drops the blanket and comes to my side. “Your breeches are soaked. They’ll prevent you from warming your core temperature.”
He grabs the sturdy material and tugs it down my wet hips. The fabric sticks, and when he inserts his strong hands between my thighs to coax the pants down, his knuckles brush up against my panties.
I suck in my breath. “Oh.”
He looks up at me, and his eyes flash. His horns stiffen. For a second, I think he’s going to touch me again, but he looks away and tugs my garment down, only stopping when they hit the top of my boots.
“The boots.” He laughs. “I forgot these.”
He swings me into his arms and suddenly deposits me on a flat boulder that’s at the height of his chest. “Sit here for a second, little warrior.”
He removes my boots and places them aside—and then the breeches are easy to slide off my ankles.
“Use this until I make a fire.” He wraps the silver thermoblanket around my shoulders and tucks it around my body. His hands linger just a moment as he arranges it, and he slides one hand softly over my thigh.
Already I feel better—he was right about the wet clothes making me colder. I clutch the blanket tightly to my chest with criss-crossed fists.
“I have a few nutrition tubes for you. Start with this and see if you want more.” He hands me one full of a gel that I suck down eagerly.
“You don’t need it?” I recall that I haven’t seen him eat anything in the time we’ve been together.
“Zandians require the crystalline energy of our planet for survival. We eat only once every ten planet rotations.”
I shake my head at the second tube. “I’m good for now. Thank you.”
He touches my leg softly through the blanket, his fingers lingering. “Good.” His eyes meet mine, and he smiles.
A slow burn works its way from the point of contact, his fingers on my body, up to my core. He places his palm onto my leg, possessive.
“Khrys?” My voice comes out husky. I shift my thighs.
He steps back.
“I’ll lay your clothing out on these rocks at the back of the cave,” he says, taking an armful of sodden cloth into the darkness. “There are dry branches back here we can use for a fire. That will help.”
I’m glad to hear it, but my eyes adjust fast. When I see him start to strip, my heart pounds a little harder. This Zandian has a magnificent body, and I can’t deny the effect he has on me, even in these circumstances.
When he comes back with thick pieces of wood shedding bark and dust, he works fast: Using something from his shoulder bag, he has a fire going not too far from the front of the cave entrance.
“And now we’ll warm up.” He stands in front of me, all chiseled muscles lit up from the flickering of the fire. He lifts me from the rock and settles us down together a few feet from the flames.
“Come.” He pulls me into his lap and rearranges the blanket to cover us both like a tent. “We need to warm up.”