Chapter Three
Gemma hadn’t been waiting for him in the gym as he’d expected, his first sign that something had indeed happened when she’d met with Rami.
Then the mouthwatering smell of Gemma’s favorite meal wafted through the doorway to their shared flat mere moments after the entry door slid open, and his concern was confirmed.
Christian frowned. Only once had Gemma cooked this for him in the last six weeks: the day after she’d woken from her coma.
It was then she’d admitted that her mother used to make this dish whenever she or Nadine had had a tough day.
The tradition had carried through the years after their mother’s passing, at least until Nadine had left.
Why was Rami keeping her from going with them into Perileos? And how could Christian possibly tell her she wouldn’t be amongst those who found Nadine? The pain he’d see in her eyes . . . Stars, it was going to be brutal.
Gemma scooped the meaty filling into the baking pan, her eyes tight and her forehead creased. Yet her lips moved in sync with lyrics she heard through the biochip behind her ear.
He stood still for several moments, just watching her. He would savor every last moment he had with her before leaving for Perileos in the morning. She was so beautiful, even with flour on her shirt and dark strands of hair falling from her braid.
When the pinch in his chest overwhelmed him, he finally set his gym bag on the floor.
“Whatcha making?”
Gemma spun, clutching at her chest with one hand; the other pointed a large wooden spoon in his direction. Christian couldn’t stop the grin from riding up his face.
“Why do you always have to do that?” she asked as if she were annoyed, though the light in her eyes gave her away.
Christian crossed the small living area into the tiny kitchenette in just a few strides. He placed both hands on her lower back, but before he could pull her to him, she gently bopped him on the nose with the wooden spoon.
“That’s what you get for startling me,” Gemma joked, smiling up at him.
He wiped the spot of food off his nose with his thumb and licked off the remnants. As usual, her cooking skills were amazing.
“Eh, not bad,” he said, smirking.
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a playful push. “Well, fine then. All for me.”
Gemma turned to finish spreading the filling across the pastry crust. Christian yanked the spoon out of her hand, tossed it in the bowl, and wrapped both arms around her from behind.
He made a show of dragging her away from the counter, and the laughter that followed was the melody to which his heart sang.
He kissed the side of her neck, and she leaned into him.
“You’re gonna let the crust get cold, and then it’s not going to bake right,” she said without much conviction
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he answered between kisses, already hardening in his trousers. “It still tasted good, even if it was a bit chewy.” Christian placed another kiss on the side of her neck, and a soft noise escaped Gemma as she leaned into him.
“How’d your meeting go with Rami?” he said against her skin.
As if the air was sucked from the room, her playful fight deflated.
Fuck. Why couldn’t he have just kept his blasted mouth shut?
He turned Gemma in his arms to face him. Her warm palms rested against his chest. And those beautiful, bright blue eyes—that he so often found himself drowning in—stared up at him. There was an unspoken agony in them that tightened his chest.
He brushed her soft cheek with his thumb. “Not well, I take it.”
Gemma pushed out of his hold. She let out an exasperated sound and shoved loose strands of hair away from her face. Without speaking, she snatched the wooden spoon from the glass bowl and finished spreading the filling into the baking pan.
“Gem . . .”
“Don’t. Not right now.” She glared at him as she yanked open the oven door to place the pan inside and grabbed hold of the metal rack—with her bare hand.
A scream tore from her throat. Christian swore as she jumped back and clutched her now-burned hand, dropping the food and shattering the dish, spilling its contents onto the floor. He flicked on the sink’s tap. In seconds, he had her palm shoved under the cool water. She began to cry.
“Hey, it’s all right,” he said. “It doesn’t look too bad. Nothing a little nanocream can’t handle. We should have some leftover—”
“It’s not the burn. I don’t care about the burn,” Gemma said, her voice cracking. “I was going to soften the blow by making you dinner, but now it’s ruined, and I don’t know how to say what I need to say.”
Christian’s pulse raced. What the fuck happened when she met with Rami?
He swallowed. “Keep your hand under the water.” Without waiting for a reply, he hurried to their bathroom, grabbed the bottle of nanocream and a gauze wrap, and was back at Gemma’s side in less than a minute.
He turned off the tap, took Gemma’s hand in his, and gently dried her blistering fingertips. If it hurt, she didn’t show it.
With as little pressure as he could manage, Christian applied the cream, and by the time he had her hand wrapped with the gauze, her tears had turned into mere sniffles.
“I’m sorry about your dinner,” she spoke softly.
In a different circumstance, he would’ve chuckled.
Instead, he wiped what remained of her tears from her cheeks and led her to the white sofa in their living area.
She sat sideways, her shoulder pressing into the back cushion.
One leg was bent and tucked beneath the other, which draped over the edge.
He mirrored her position but rested his arm along the top of the sofa.
“Talk to me,” he said, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear.
She swallowed, and the pain in her gaze twisted his gut. “The implant’s failing.”
It felt as if Illari herself, patron goddess of their galaxy, had punched him square in the chest.
Heat drained from his face. His lungs wouldn’t take in air. His worst nightmare was manifesting, and he wouldn’t be around for her.
Christian shut his eyes against the rage storming in his chest and squeezed the top of the sofa until his fingers ached.
“It’ll be okay,” Gemma said, stroking his forearm with her soft hand. “There’s a team going to the temple to figure out what was in that orb, so we can find a cure. And with you there—”
He jumped off the sofa to pace the tiny area. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
“Christian—”
“I won’t be with you, Gem.” He bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he worked to steady his breaths. He couldn’t come undone now. He couldn’t release the fury that had been building in him since the day he’d held her near-lifeless body in his arms.
“What do you mean you won’t be with me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Christian stood upright and dug his hands into his hair. “Hawk’s dad is here, and he’s leading a team into Perileos in search of the rest of the Dissent.”
Several seconds passed.
“You mean in search of my sister.” There was no question in her words.
Christian looked at her then. Teary eyes stared back at him with a look of betrayal. She might as well have stabbed him in the heart.
“I’m sorry, Gem. I spoke with the governor afterward, but . . .” He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes against the onslaught of anger that threatened to take over all reasoning.
He’d promised himself after the day he’d yelled at Gemma—the day after she’d tried to kill Rami—that he would never allow her to see that side of him again. The side that came out in the fighting ring or when he’d played the Falaichte’s games to protect his family.
But right now, he struggled to bolster his resolve to stay calm.
He growled, pacing again. “This isn’t fair. You’ve done everything right. You’ve fought to live, to stay whole, to stay you, and now they’re forcing us apart when your implant is failing, when you could—” He didn’t dare finish the sentence. His throat tightened.
Gemma stood, slipping her soft fingers between his. “It is what it is.” She squeezed his hand. “You’ll find Nadine, and I’ll find a cure for this . . . whatever is happening to me. It’ll be okay.”
“No, I’m going to talk to Rami.”
She held tight to his arm when he tried to march out of the flat.
He glanced at her, and those big blue eyes made his heart skip a beat.
“Let it go,” she said. “We’ll only be separated until you find Nadine, and there’ll only be a few days of walking distance between us if anything were to happen.”
He squeezed his eyes closed and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. She was right. He shouldn’t be this fucking emotional. After spending half of his life protecting people, though, how could he just stand by and not defend the person who meant the most to him in the entire galaxy?
Gemma faced him and placed a warm hand on his chest. “You’ve taught me so much. I don’t need you to fight my battles, Christian.”
He sighed. “I know.” She really had come a long way since the day she’d fallen face first into the dirt during their first simulation.
“Just . . . promise me you won’t let them kill Nadine.”
Christian swallowed. “I promise.” She hadn’t even needed to ask.
He took a deep breath, blinking slowly as he released the wave of anger. If he had only one more night to spend with Gemma before they were apart for weeks—or, stars forbid, months—he wasn’t going to let his temper ruin it.
He took her face in his hands to place a kiss on her forehead. “You know I’ll only be a message or call away. And if you tell me you need me, I will race to wherever you are. Blast the consequences.”
“I know.” Her voice shook, but when he looked at her, he’d never seen such determination in her eyes. They might be forced to separate, but she wasn’t going to let it defeat her.
Stars, she was amazing.