Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Jonus
Something wakes me.
I lie still in the darkness, listening. The house is quiet. All I can hear is the faint whisper of wind through the pines outside and the distant sound of Aldar’s snores.
But something pulled me from sleep. Then I hear a sound from the room next door. A whimper, then a cry.
She screams.
I’m out of bed and across the hall before my brain fully catches up with my body.
The door isn’t locked—thank fuck—and I push through it, already scanning for threats.
No intruder or apparent danger. Just Sloane, thrashing in the bed in the throes of a terrible nightmare, most likely reliving her horrific time in that pit.
She’s crying out. Her voice cracks on a sob.
I sit on the edge of the bed. Part of me knows I shouldn’t touch her—she might not know where she is, might think I’m one of them—but I can’t watch her suffer. “Sloane.” I keep my voice low and gentle as I try to take one of her hands in mine. “Sloane, you’re safe. You’re with me, in Truckee.”
Her eyes fly open, wild and unseeing. “Stop it,” she shouts. “Leave me alone.” She grabs my arm with a tight grip and for a second she’s still there, fighting for her life.
“It’s me,” I say. “It’s Jonus. You’re safe.”
Recognition finally floods her face, then embarrassment. She releases my arm like it burned her and runs her hands through her hair. “Oh my gosh. What was wrong with me? I’m sorry.” Her voice is hoarse and she looks around, blinking awake. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Don’t apologize.” It comes out rougher than I intended. I’m shaking too, I realize. Adrenaline with nowhere to go. “Are you okay?”
She slowly pushes herself up against the headboard, wincing at her bruises and lacerations, and sits cross-legged, wrapping her arms around her waist, still trembling. “Yeah, just a bad dream.”
“I want to kill every single one of them for doing that to you,” I growl. “I want to go back to that compound and burn it to the ground.”
She meets my gaze. “I think it was burned to the ground. And they might really all be dead or at least injured.”
I grin. “Yeah, that’s right. Does that make you feel better?”
“Yeah,” Sloane responds. “It really does because I don’t ever feel that those exact guards are going to come back after me. But I’m not feeling perfectly safe yet, because I’m certain Aldrige is hiring a new team of people to find me here, in America.”
“But you’re not alone, like you were last time. I won’t let them take you Sloane. I’d die before I let them hurt even a hair on your head.”
“Can you stay in the room with me?” She asks quietly, like she’s ashamed to need it. “I’m afraid to be alone in here.”
“I’ll stay as long as you want.”
I shift, settling into the chair beside the bed.
“Oh, I feel bad at you trying to sleep in that small chair. You can lie in this bed, next to me.”
I desperately want to comply, but I don’t think she’s ready for that. “No,” I respond. “I am perfectly comfortable and I want you to feel safe. Sleep, Sloane. I’ll be right here, making sure no one can come in.”
She lies back down, curling on her side to face me. Her breathing is still ragged, but it’s slowing. Her eyes drift closed.
I watch as she falls asleep. And then I get as comfortable as an orc can get in a human-size chair, and I fall asleep too.
Morning light wakes me.
I’m still in the chair, neck stiff, one leg gone numb from the angle, but I don’t care.
Sloane is asleep in the bed, face peaceful now, her auburn hair spread across the pillow.
I watch her breathe for a moment longer than necessary.
The way her freckles scatter across her cheeks. The way her lips part slightly.
My female.
The thought comes unbidden, but I don’t push it away.
She stirs, her beautiful blue eyes fluttering open. She sees me and smiles before she remembers to be embarrassed about last night. “You stayed.”
“I said I would.”
Her smile widens, just a little, and warmth spreads across my chest.
Morning reality intrudes quickly. She probably needs to use the bathroom, her feet are bandaged and the hospital was very clear that she remains non-weight bearing. No walking for at least five days, probably longer. It probably is better that I stayed in the room with her overnight.
I stand and stretch.
She watches every move I make and I notice her cheeks looks flushed.
Heh.
“I’m taking you to the bathroom,” I announce.
This is something we’ve done already, so this isn’t new.
I carry her in, she’s embarrassed that I have to set her on the toilet.
But then I leave and I know that she’s managing to adjust her clothes herself and do her business and she always call me back when she’s finished and her clothes are correct again.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I’ve gotta go.”
I scoop her up. One arm under her knees, one behind her back. She wraps her arms around my neck like it’s becoming natural.
She weighs nothing to me. I try not to think about how perfectly she fits against my chest.
While Sloane is busy, I return to my own room and use my own bathroom and quickly change into a fresh set of clothes. Then I return. When she calls for me, I carry her back to the bed, settling her against the pillows.
“I need to check your bandages,” I tell her. “The hospital said twice a day.”
She nods, extending her feet toward me. The supplies are on the nightstand where I left them last night—the saline, antibiotic ointment, sterile gauze and medical tape.
I kneel at the foot of the bed and take her fragile, human-sized left foot in my hands. So small compared to mine, even swollen and bandaged. I begin unwrapping carefully. The wounds underneath make my jaw clench.
There are multiple lacerations across the sole from when she ran through a fucking jungle barefoot, several puncture wounds from thorns or roots, and one deeper cut on her heel that required stitches.
“How does it look?” She’s asks, watching my face.
I keep my expression neutral. “Healing. No sign of infection.” I examine the stitched wound more closely.
“This one’s the most concerning. That’s the one we watch.
Don’t forget these wounds are evidence of your strength,” I remind her.
“You managed to climb and pull yourself out of that pit and run through the dark to survive. I suspect not many humans would’ve been able to do what you did. ”
“Thanks,” she snorts. “I think if I were a little more fit and weighed less, I would’ve made it out faster and gotten much further than I did, but I appreciate you saying that. It really was hard getting out of that damn pit. I fell down the first time and had to start all over again. It sucked.”
“Strong and brave,” I confirm as I clean each wound with saline, working as gently as my hands allow. “I’m going to apply antibiotic ointment to every cut, every puncture. Then rewrap with fresh bandages, careful not to bind too tight.”
She nods with agreement.
My rough hands are on her soft feet. I’m enjoying this intimate moment with my female.
Sloane silently watches me work. “You’re good at that,” she says softly when I move to her right foot.
“I’ve had practice. I was originally trained as a hunter for my commune and I’ve had more than one partner get hurt with the both of us far, far removed from help. I’ve bandaged orcs and we’ve had to slowly make our way back to the commune to be fixed by our healer.”
“You don’t go to human doctors?”
“No,” I shake my head. “Orcs are always healed by our own healers. Although, now that, in modern times, so many of us live off commune, we’ve ended up in human emergency rooms. They have learned how to stabilize us and then airlift us out to the nearest commune.”
“Oh interesting, I didn’t know that.”
I keep answering her many questions about orc biology, hoping to keep her mind off what I’m doing. When I finish, I don’t let go immediately. My thumb traces the arch of her foot—uninjured skin, soft despite everything.
Her breath catches.
I force myself to release her and stand up. Put the supplies back on the nightstand.
“Breakfast?” My voice comes out rougher than I’d like.
She nods, cheeks flushed. “Breakfast sounds like a great idea.”
I have my back turned to Sloane as she changes her clothes while sitting on the bed. Then I carry her to the bathroom so that she can brush her teeth and her hair and apply makeup.
She bites her lip. “Um, maybe I could rent a wheelchair for a few days, so then you don’t have to carry me around like this.”
“No,” I growl.
Her eyes widen.
“No,” I say, softer this time. “I want to help you. It is my role.”
“Role?”
Should I tell her I think her natural scent, which is stronger now that she’s cleaned and out of that hospital, is proving to me that she’s my future mate? Or is it too soon and I’ll simply scare her away?