Chapter 25 Trust Him
TRUST HIM
AMARA
THE FIRST SLIVER of morning light creeps over the stone wall as I drag my fingers through Vexar’s hair. He wakes slowly, a sleepy smile curling his lips and warming my body.
“Hey,” I whisper, staring down at his beautiful face still nestled in my lap.
Last night changed things. A lot. He listened to me, even when I was telling him things he didn’t want to hear.
Maybe a part of him already knew everything I was saying was true.
Maybe he just wasn’t ready to face it until I forced him to.
Either way, I feel confident he’s on my team now.
Does that mean I think he’s fully broken out of his cultural cage?
No, but at least he’s willing to consider there’s a cage at all. For now, that’s enough.
His eyes flick to the window where the sky has become a soft painting of muted colors—oranges, pinks, yellows, and dusty blues. “It is morning,” he says. His brow furrows as he sits up. “Did you not sleep?”
“I’ll sleep when we get out of here.” After our conversation, I tried to sleep, but the nightmares wouldn’t stop. Then my fist discovered just how hard Vexar’s face really is, and I gave up. “Is your face ok?” I ask.
He rubs a hand over his jaw with a wistful smile. “You punch well, but I am more concerned about your hand.” Warm fingers gently rub over my swollen knuckles. “Does it hurt?”
“Not really, but I think you’re made out of actual stone.”
He grins and presses a kiss to the new bruises. “I will have to be faster in the future.”
“You were asleep. I’m pretty sure your reaction time doesn’t matter when you’re asleep.”
“I can do many things when I am asleep,” he says with a wicked smile.
My eyes roll. “Alright, alright. Enough flirting. Let me check your stitches.”
“I am fine,” he says with a wave of his hand. “The pain is nearly gone.”
“Nope.” I point to the wall and say, “I’m checking them.”
He groans, but scoots over and props himself against the wall anyway. “Really, I am fine.”
“I’m sure you are,” I say as I straddle his right leg to get access to his torso.
A grin spreads across his face as his eyes track down to the apex of my thighs, and I remember that I’m still naked.
For a moment, I consider pulling the sheet around me, but that just seems silly, so I sit my bare ass down on his leather-clad thigh.
When I was in my twenties, and as strong as I’ve ever been, I walked around like I was a cave troll.
Now, despite feeling a bit frail and soft, I’m more proud of my body than I’ve ever been.
It’s gotten me through thirty-something years of shit, and I’ll be forever indebted to it.
As I lean forward to loosen the bandage, Vexar lets out a deep rumble that sends a pulse of heat through me. When I glance up, he’s smirking.
“Stop that, I’m trying to focus,” I say as I peel back the bandage and—
Huh?
Confused, I lean over and glance at his other side.
“What? Did you forget where my wound is?” he jokes.
The joke falls flat as I pull the bandage down further and stare at the nearly healed line of pink, raised skin. “No, it’s just…” I tilt my head, not sure how to verbalize my confusion. “It just healed a lot faster than it should’ve.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Well, yeah… But why?” What I’m looking at is not the same injury I stitched up yesterday. This wound is nearly closed, and most of the discoloration and bruising are gone.
“What do you mean, ‘why’?” he asks.
“Why did it heal so fast? It looks like this happened over a week ago, not yesterday.” I glance up at him. “Is that normal for you?”
He reaches down and pulls back the bandage himself before grunting in surprise. “I thought you were exaggerating.” He looks slightly rattled as he says, “Maybe it is the Zhyrrak?”
“Can it do that?”
He rests his head against the wall and looks up at the ceiling. “I do not know, but the moment we get to our ship, I will be searching for a reference manual.”
I rest my full weight on his thigh while examining his face. “You’re really just as confused about this bond stuff as I am, aren’t you?”
“I was told two very different versions of what Zhyrrak bonds are, and neither version matches up with reality.” He gives my thigh a comforting squeeze. “I wish I had more answers for you.”
“What are the two versions?” I ask.
“One of the stories said the bond made warriors more obedient, more deadly, and gave them superior control over their emotions.” His mouth pinches before he continues.
“The other story said that the warrior’s power was rooted in love and the need to protect their mate.
There are similarities between the versions, but neither makes much sense now, and neither mentioned…
” He trails off, shaking his head with a troubled look in his eyes.
The first version sounds like propaganda to me, but I keep that thought to myself and smooth the bandage back in place. The contradicting versions of the Zhyrrak aren’t really important right now, and if we make it out of here, there will be plenty of time to unpack all the bullshit he’s been told.
Fucking empires.
“Well, Zhyrrak or not, you’re going to have a nasty scar,” I say lightly.
He laughs and looks at me like I’ve just said the most absurd thing he’s ever heard.
I wait for an explanation, but he doesn’t offer one. “Alright, I’ll admit, I missed the joke. So are you gonna clue me in, or …?”
“It is just funny that you are so concerned about adding a new scar to my collection.” He gently cups my cheek. “I will be glad to look at this one; it is a far better memory than the rest.”
My eyes flick to the scar that runs the length of his neck, the one he keeps absentmindedly touching, and his face tightens. It’s clear he isn’t ready to talk about those yet, and I get the feeling their origin is darker than I’d originally thought.
“What’s the new one a reminder of?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation light.
“The day I met you.”
He strokes my cheeks with his thumbs, and all of the sudden, my mouth is on his. The hunger in our kiss is unmistakable, and the last clear thought I have is, Trust him.