Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
LILY
I’m half dozing, half awake, holding what the women here have told me is called a chelda—a weird watermelon cucumber-like spritzer drink. It’s the only thing I’ve wanted since I woke up from the medicated coma they put me in.
I blink, trying to catch my bearings and figure out what’s woken me up— when I hear Bex shout again.
“He’s waking up. He’s waking up. Oh shit—no, he’s waking up. Lily, Lily, he’s waking up. He needs you; he needs to see you or he’s gonna freak out. We’re gonna have to put him under again.”
I leap out of the chair, the glass of chelda falling to the floor, smashing into a million bits, the cool liquid inside splashing against my ankles as I run for Zan’s sick bed.
I shove Bex aside and ignore her sounds of protest as I fling myself onto Zan.
His wing is supported by tethers in the ceiling in a strange posture that the doctors here on Sueva insist will help his wing bones set correctly.
The membrane is miraculously already healing, translucent and too thin in the ravaged parts from the worm’s toxin, but I don’t care about any of that right now.
All I care about is my mate, who’s slowly opening his eyes, long white lashes fluttering as he stares up at me.
“You’ve joined me in the afterlife,” he says. “I do not deserve this.”
I can’t help but break into a huge grin, tears dropping onto his face as I straddle his body.
“She’s gonna make him sick again,” Bex mutters.
“Let’s leave them alone,” a deep male voice says—probably Bex’s mate—and a door shuts behind them.
“You’re awake,” I tell him. Wet warmth tracks down my cheeks.
“I killed you,” Zan says. “That is my—”
I slap him across the face.
He blinks up at me.
“Does that feel like you killed me?” I tell him, cocking my head.
“No, you did not kill me. You tried to kill yourself. And then we were somehow transported here because when we chose ourselves, the entire game glitched, and they were able to pull us out and teleport us to Sueva. So, you’re not dead, and I don’t want to hear that bullshit anymore. ”
I clamp my mouth shut, my nose crinkling.
“That’s not how I wanted to say welcome back,” I say slowly, but I narrow my eyes at him.
“I am extremely angry. I have been in this forced heat for weeks now. Weeks! They had to sedate me so I wouldn’t try to kill everybody, because apparently your little Draegon heat did more than make me horny—it made me a complete rage monster. So, yeah, congratulations.”
“Is that how you wanted to greet me?” he asks slowly, his lips ticking up in that smug smile I’ve grown to miss so much that it hurts.
“I wanted to greet you by giving you a blow job and waking you up, but apparently that would just make my heat worse. So, every time I tried to do that, they pulled me off of you and had to sedate me again.”
That, more than anything, seems to rouse him from the sad, self-sacrificing bullshit he’s grown so attached to.
I feel his cock begin to stir behind me, the movement in the entire bed vibrating with the force of it.
“We are really alive,” he says.
Reaching up, he holds my face in his hand, his talons pricking my skin gently, but it feels so good to be touched by him that I just stay, letting him turn my face this way and that way.
“You were not hurt. You are alive,” he says with a moan, pulling me into an embrace.
I snuggle closer, then pull back.
“You have to be careful,” I tell him. “Your wing has been healing for days now, and they’ve done some crazy shit on it that I can’t believe, but you’re not supposed to move it.”
“You’re worried about me,” he says slowly.
“Of fucking course I’m worried about you. Do you not remember me telling you that I loved you right before you tried to blow yourself up? Do you not remember that?”
“I thought I was dreaming,” he says. “But it was a nightmare, and I’d killed you.”
He’s still holding my face, even though I’m snuggled as close as I can get to him.
“You’re still in heat,” he says.
“I don’t even want to talk about it,” I manage, pressing kisses against his neck, his ear. Tracing the contours of his face—so beautiful—the scar even in stark relief since he’s been laid up in bed for days, a pale lavender against the darker purple of his flesh.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says. “Why don’t we fix it?”
“How would we fix that?” I tell him. “There’s only one way to fix it. And your wing is hurt.”
“I don’t need my wings to make you come. I haven’t used them once.”
“Oh,” I say slowly. “You don’t think it’s kind of messed up to just, like, jump on top of you right now?”
“You have been in pain for weeks. Weeks,” he says. “Heat is supposed to last two to three days at most.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I can’t seem to keep my hands off of him, my lips either. “Just let me touch you.”
A low growl rumbles in his chest, and I moan a little because it feels really good between my legs.
“You could never take advantage of me,” he says.
But when my hand starts to inch toward his waist, where I want it most, he wraps his fingers around my wrist and sets it back on his cheek.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask him, absolutely hating that thought.
“No, Lily. The only thing that could hurt me is if something happened to you.”
“You really are all right. We’re safe now,” I tell him. “We’re on Sueva.”
He sits up abruptly, and I squeak as he pulls me into that bridal carry he seems so fond of.
“Then we’re going to solve your heat the right way.”
“Oh, finally?” I say, trying to pull off his sheet so I can get to him.
He laughs, making bracelets of his hands around my wrists to keep me from the body part of his I want the most.
“Why aren’t you letting me touch you?” I squeal, annoyed and outraged all over again.
“Because the first time we meet in that way, I will not do it in a hospital bed with my wings tied to the ceiling.”
“Are you seriously telling me you’re going to make me wait longer and keep me in pain?”
“I’m not going to make you wait any longer,” he says. “Well, as long as it takes for us to get to our home, because if we’re on Sueva, then that means that we have a home. Is that correct?”
“We do.” I kiss his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, and generally snuggle up against him as close as I can get. “We do have a home. But I’m not sure I can make it that long.”
“What if I tell you I’ll make it worth the wait?” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“You’re gonna make it worth weeks of wait?” I ask archly.
“If that’s what it takes,” he says very seriously.
He lets one of my hands go, but only so that he can cup the small curve of my breast, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Do you trust me to make it up to you when we finally find our new home?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
And then I laugh at the absolutely resolute expression that takes his face.
“I have a feeling I can make you regret saying that,” he tells me. “Now get me out of this bed so that I can make love to you the way you deserve, my mate.”
I immediately begin screaming for Bex and the rest of the med team.
They run in with their version of a crash cart, Tati holding a med scanner in one hand and a huge syringe I know all too well is full of sedative in the other.
They stare at each other after taking in our strange situation, Zan holding my wrists and me straddling him.
“We’re going home,” I tell them cheerfully.
“Oh thank god,” Bex says. “No offense, but you two have been exhausting me. Especially when we still have to get the rest of your friends out. I’ve got a bead on Poppy, by the way.”
“Listen, I want to see them as bad as you all want to rescue them. It’s all we’ve talked about while we’ve waited for Zan to come around, after all. But now is not the time. I need to take care of this heat or I’m going to absolutely go crazy.”
“Yeah, please leave,” Tati says, cringing. I’ve only known her for about a week now, but she’s definitely the most reserved of all the Federation astronauts who ended up married to the Slavens here.
“We’ll bring a team and check in on you tonight and drop some food off for all of you and make sure that your vitals are—”
“They can drop food off,” I say. I don’t take food for granted, not anymore, and I don’t think I ever will again.
“I will not need my vitals checked tonight. My mate will be doing that for me.” Zan argues and I shrug, because yeah, that is the plan. If his vitals are in his dick.
God, I’m so glad he’s awake.
“Sick,” Bex says appreciatively. “When you guys are done, like, fucking, maybe we could have a double date, because I have a feeling my husband is going to get along with you just great, Zan.”
That makes me laugh.