Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Kolt
Now that I had food in my belly, my head didn’t pound with such intensity, although the throb in my leg had honed sharper. It was sweet relief to shed the constricting costume, and I rolled my shoulders after I tugged my arms free.
The uniform was slightly below my waist when Skye pivoted away from me, provoking a grin that showed that she was still shy around me.
Then I remembered all humans were strange in their reluctance to be naked, knowledge that floated up from my subconscious.
That made me grin wider. So, it wasn’t only her, and it wasn’t that she didn’t want to see me.
I thought back to how flustered she’d gotten when tying the leather strap around my thigh. Had that been because she was unused to seeing males? Or was it seeing me that had rattled her?
I didn’t have time to dwell on that for too long, as I yanked the tight garment further down my torso and legs, stepping out of the fabric that was pooled around my feet. That was when the room started to spin.
Touching a hand to my leg, I felt fresh blood trickling from the cut. No, not trickling. Flowing. As blackness teased the corners of my vision, it hit me that the uncomfortably snug fabric had been holding my wound closed. Without it or the makeshift tourniquet, I was rapidly losing blood.
I swayed, my mouth opening to call for Skye, but no sound emerged. I tried to reach for her—she was so close—but my arm would not obey. My heartbeat slowed, the weakening rush of blood in my ear drowning out every other sound. Then my knees buckled and darkness engulfed me.
When I came to, Skye held me, and we were both on the floor. Her voice sounded as if it was coming from the far end of a long tunnel, the words warbled and faint. I blinked heavily, her frantic expression disappearing and reappearing as her words began to make sense.
“Kolt!” She smacked my face. “Wake up!”
I flinched, the smack of her palm unusually jolting. “I am awake.”
Her sigh was heavy. “Barely. Your leg is a mess, but I need you to help me. You’re too heavy for me to move alone. Can you sit up?”
My instinct was to argue that I was sitting up, but then my vision cleared enough to see that I was almost flat on my back with her partially trapped under me. I grunted my agreement and hoped she would understand.
“Good.” She summoned a small smile. “I’ve got my hand on your gash to slow the bleeding, but I need to wrap it with something more permanent.”
I liked the idea of her keeping her hand on me, but I suspected she would not like that suggestion. Not that I could form the words to say it.
“Lean over on your far arm,” she said. “That way I can get out from under you.”
I eased my body to one side, leaning on my elbow and gritting my teeth at the effort. My head still swam, but my ears no longer rang, which felt like progress.
Once Skye had wiggled her way from under me, she made a relieved sound. “Whew, you really are a big guy.” Then color flooded her face. “Not that I’m looking…I mean, I’m trying not to…I mean you’re tall and muscular…and…fuck, Skye, shut up. I’m really glad you’re out of it.”
“I am not that out of it,” I mumbled.
More muttered curse words, some I’d never heard, as she readjusted her hand pressed to my leg. “We’re focusing on your leg right now. I need you to put your hand where mine is and put pressure on it until I get back.”
This snapped me into clearer focus. “Where are you going?”
“I need to find something to bind your leg.” She held up a hand as if anticipating my suggestion. “And not one of those raggedy leather strips from your kilt. Gods knows what’s on them, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t sterile.”
Even in my muddled state, I hated the idea of her leaving our hiding spot. I hated her venturing out without me to protect her. The theatre might be empty, or it might not be, and there was no telling what could happen to her alone.
“There’s no point in arguing,” she said, as if reading my thoughts. “Your wound needs tending. If we don’t get it cleaned and bound, I don’t know what might happen. And you are not fucking dying on my watch.”
I recognized the stubborn set of her jaw. I’d barely known her a handful of days, yet I already knew when it was pointless to argue. “Take the blaster.”
She nodded, her lips tight. “Now give me your hand.” She guided my hand to the wound, slipping her hand away as she placed mine on top. Instantly, my palm was slicked with blood. “Press down, even if it hurts.”
I summoned a grunt that was my version of reluctant agreement.
Skye smiled as she shook her head. “I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that I’m starting to understand your grunts.”
She stood, but I grabbed her arm with my free hand and pulled her back to me. My thoughts were confused, and my memories were still just out of reach, but I knew something for certain. “Be careful. I cannot lose you.”
Her brows raised as she stared at me, then she put a hand to my face. “I’ll be fine, and so will you. No one is losing anyone.” Then her gaze flicked down my body. “From the looks of it, this isn’t your first injury. And supposedly, Vandar heal faster than the rest of us mortals.”
Was that true? Perhaps, but I did not feel invincible. In fact, I felt scared. Not of my injury as much as scared of losing the woman staring at me.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered.
I believed her, but a part of me still didn’t want to let her go. I moved my hand from her arm to her shoulder and slid it up to tangle in her curls. “Be safe and come back to me.”
Then I pulled her mouth to mine, kissing her so fervently that I forgot about my leg or the pain. There was only the softness of her lips and the sweet taste of her as she moaned into me. Only when she pulled away did I register the blood pulsing beneath my hand.
She didn’t say another word as she stood and backed away, grabbing a blaster and pushing open the door. Before she disappeared through the opening, she glanced back at me. Then she hurried out and dragged the door back into place from the other side.
I sank back onto the floor, lying prone and concentrating on keeping steady pressure on the self-inflicted gash in my thigh.
She would be back soon, I told myself. There was no one in the theatre.
She would find something to wrap my leg and be back before I even stopped worrying.
She was not in danger. Besides, she had a blaster for protection.
“A blaster she barely knows how to use,” I said to myself.
For a moment, I considered getting to my feet and following her, but even propping myself up on my elbows sent a wave of dizziness crashing through me. I would be of no use to her out there, and every fiber of my being hated that.
I was a raider of the Vandar. I was the battle chief of a Vandar horde. I might not know much, but I knew that, and I knew it was my duty to protect. Protect my people, protect those who could not protect themselves, and protect the woman who made my heart race.
Despite all the reasons I could not fall for her, should not fall for her, the fact remained that I could not stop myself. I was as powerless to keep myself from desiring her as I was to make her do anything she did not want to do. It was maddening.
But the longer I lay waiting for Skye to return, the less I could remember why being with her would be a bad thing. If there was genuine danger, surely I would sense that.
Just as I was drifting off, my hand slipping from my leg, a sharp sound outside the room jolted me awake.