Chapter 7 Xelora – Vexar #2
Her brows raise. “Wow, from charming to charmingly aggressive in ten seconds flat. You know, I’m almost impressed.
” She waits for me to respond, but I hold steady until she breaks.
“For fuck’s sake, ok. The guards opened your cell after you passed out.
I asked them to help since I couldn’t without sedating you—at least not legally—but they just stood there like a couple of sentient paperweights. So, I took action.”
“The guards let you in?”
She shifts her weight, but her expression remains hard. “They didn’t fling open the doors and wave me in like some long-awaited messiah, no.”
Some of her words are unfamiliar, but it is clear she is being sarcastic. Possibly trying to hide guilt or deception? Yet her face shows no signs of deceit. Strange. This must be a defense mechanism of some sort. Perhaps she is more wary of me than I thought?
“And neither guard tried to stop you?” I ask, softening my tone.
“Obviously not.”
I glance at the closed door. “Why is the door shut?”
“I don’t know, maybe because they shut it behind me?”
“Is it locked?”
She tilts her head forward, purses her lips, and stares at me through long lashes.
“What is this? Twenty questions?” When I don’t respond, she sucks her teeth and folds her arms over her chest. “No, they didn’t ask me to help you.
No, they didn’t try to stop me. Yes, they shut the door and locked it.
And yes, I’m your only hope of staying alive.
” She lets out a heavy breath. “You know, you were a lot more fun before you started interrogating me.”
“Why did they lock you in here?”
“This might come as a shock, but they didn’t give me an explanation.”
I run a hand down my face, trying to process the information she’s provided.
Under normal circumstances, the guards would never allow someone to break Gaius’s laws—it is their job to enforce them—but according to this nurse, they just stepped aside and let her in.
If what she says is true, it reveals something far more sinister than incompetence.
A weight settles in my chest. It seems my fears were not unfounded.
My eyes flick back to hers, and a tightness grips my spine. Her expression is cold and too similar to the stony features of Xelora. It is strange. Eerie even. And so achingly familiar.
“Did you know my contract stated I was not to receive medical treatment?” I ask, pleased that my English is already improving.
She bites her lip, and her expression softens. “The head nurse mentioned it. Said I couldn’t help you even if you were sedated, but I took a chance and assumed you didn’t want to die. Did I get that wrong?”
Somehow, I do not think she knows who I am. But my mind is foggy from the pain and blood loss, and it is clear I cannot trust my own judgement. I feel distracted. Distant.
“Why?” I ask plainly.
“Why what?”
“Why did you enter my cell? I assume you are aware of the consequences, so why did you do it?”
She picks absentmindedly at the dried blood between her fingers, but her eyes stay fixed on mine. “As I already said, I assumed you didn’t want to die, so I decided to help.”
Gods, she is difficult. “What I am asking is why you chose to risk your job—and possibly your freedom—for me.” Gaius takes his laws very seriously, and I doubt her transgression will be easily forgiven.
In the best possible scenario, she will lose her job, but there is a risk of far greater consequences.
She stares at me for a long moment, as if she is trying to work out some complex question in her mind. “I don’t know.” Lie. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I let you die.”
I wait, hoping she will elaborate. She does not.
“Why are you lying to me?” I ask.
Her brows furrow. “I’m not.” I bobble my head, and her lips pull back in a sneer. “I’m sorry, are you mocking me right now?”
Wait, what? “No, I am not mocking you.”
“Then what the hell was that?” She mimics my head bobble with a rude expression.
“It is a gesture of uncertainty.”
“Oh…” she says slowly. “Sorry, you just … well, you’re speaking English and it’s kinda hard to remember you’re an alien.” She twirls a finger next to her head, and I assume she is referencing my horns.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask. If she does, her actions will make much more sense.
She throws her hands up. “I don’t know. I was told your name is Vexar. Is that wrong?”
I cock my head. “Did Gaius send you?”
“Who?”
I shake my head, dismissing the question. The name did not spark any familiarity on her face, and I believe her. She does not know who I am. Gaius did not send her. What am I missing?
“You risked your job and possibly your freedom to save my life because … it was the right thing to do?” Humans aren’t known for their self-sacrificing behavior, are they?
“I did it because the alternative was worse.”
“The alternative?”
Her eyes narrow before she shrugs. “Maybe it was the wrong choice, but at least it was mine.”
She has stopped lying, but her words are cryptic, and it is clear I cannot trust her. My vow may be broken, but my discernment is not.
“Thank you for saving my life,” I say, bringing the questions to an end.
She lets out a humorless huff. “I— Uh… Well, that was a quick 180.”
“Are you aware that your speech is very unclear?”
“Are you aware that you’re a bit of a twat?”
That was an insult, but I am not sure what it means, so I ignore it. “Well, thank you anyway. For saving me.”
“So you aren’t mad?”
“No.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you sound mad.”
I let out a low, rumbling breath and gaze at the sharp ripples in the stone above me. Where is my control? My calm facade?
“I am not mad at you, I—” I stop myself before I reveal more than necessary. “I am in pain,” I say awkwardly. She raises a brow, and somehow, that small action has me scrambling to take my words back. “The pain is fine, and I am not mad, I am grateful. Thank you.”
Why do I keep saying ‘thank you’? This human is confounding my sense of reason and testing my self-control. If I did not know better, I might assume she had some sort of dangerous pheromone that was affecting my mind.
“Well…” she trails off, cupping her elbow in one hand and tapping her lush lips with the other. “You’re welcome.”
A warmth spreads over my skin, and I quickly avert my eyes.
Discipline and control.
My wound needs to be closed. I should focus on that.