Chapter 29 #2
Her eyes snapped open. She gasped and sat bolt upright, her chest heaving, sweat slicking her skin. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.
An agonized release of air left Christian’s mouth. Her gaze snapped to him.
Christian’s jaw was tight and sweat covered his forehead.
And on his forearm was a red welt in the shape of her hand.
Tears pooled in her lower lids. “Oh stars—Christian—”
“It’s all right,” he said, sitting up. “You were glowing, love. I tried to wake you.”
Her heart cracked. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to.” Her voice shook as the tears finally released. “I hurt you.”
Christian caught her face between his palms. “Hey, look at me. Look. I’m fine. I’m right here.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “It’s over.”
But Gemma couldn’t shake the memory of the dream—Christian collapsing in front of her, torn apart by the very power that now hummed in her veins. The power that had hurt him in reality.
Their tent flap rustled. “Everything okay?” Hawk asked.
Christian raised a hand, his voice steady despite the burn creeping up his arm. “We’re fine. Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”
With a muttered apology, the flap fell closed, leaving only the sound of Gemma’s ragged breathing.
“I need to get something for the burn.” She went to move, but Christian placed a hand on her leg.
“I’m fine. The pain’s already fading. Stay with me.”
She shook her head. Her stomach twisted. She buried her face in her hands. “I’m a danger to everyone, even when I’m asleep.”
“No.” He rubbed her arm. “You had a nightmare. That’s all.”
“You call that ‘all?’” she whispered, holding her tattooed arm up to display the faint violet shimmer still ebbing from the markings. “I could’ve killed you.”
He took her hand in his. “You didn’t. You won’t. You’re stronger than you think.”
Fresh tears slipped free. “We both know that isn’t true.” Her tattoo shimmered faintly as if feeding off her anguish.
He wiped away her tears, a corner of his mouth rising slightly. “There you go, not believing me again.”
Any other time she would’ve appreciated the humor, but not now.
She shook her head. “I can’t be here anymore. It’s only a matter of time before . . .” She swallowed. “I can’t hurt anyone again, Christian. I can’t.” For a moment, the hum in her chest spiked, sharp and dangerous. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the fear. “I’m going to turn myself in.”
She heard him stop breathing. When she opened her eyes, the pain she found in his stare nearly broke her into pieces.
“Don’t.” His voice shook. “Please, don’t. I know you’re scared, Gemma, but that isn’t the way. We can figure this out.”
“How?” Another tear fell. “I said okay to this, remember? I let the orb turn me into a monster.”
Christian shook his head. “You are not a monster. You are so far from it. If we need to run deep into the desert until you master whatever this is, I will find us a way. Not to just survive but to thrive. I know this planet. I can protect you—protect us.”
“I would never ask you to do that.”
“I don’t need you to. Whatever the price, Gem, I will gladly pay it. Because I’d rather burn at your side than live safe without you.”
The words struck her harder than any vow he’d ever made.
The tremor in her chest slowed as if his certainty had wrapped itself around her fear. She pressed her forehead to his, clinging to the warmth of his breath.
“Then where do we go?” Her voice was fragile but steadier than before.
“I’ll figure something out. We’ll say our goodbyes in the morning—to Hawk, Imara, Lysa, your sister. We’ll tell them enough so they don’t worry—and then we’ll leave. I can sneak us out through one of the Falaichte tunnels.”
Christian’s resolve anchored her, even as the idea of leaving everything—Nadine, her friends, the fragile hope of freedom—ripped at her insides. Still, she nodded. It was the only choice that didn’t end with her hands soaked in blood.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered the promise, as though saying it too loud might make her falter.
“Tomorrow.” His hand slipped against the back of her neck, guiding them down onto the cot gently until her head rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, solid, something she could count on, even when everything else felt like it was breaking apart.
For a long moment, they didn’t speak. The tent was hushed but for the faint noise of distant generators. Somewhere outside, a soft laugh rose and fell before fading into quiet.
“You should sleep,” he muttered into her hair.
“I don’t want to close my eyes.”
He kissed the crown of her head. “Then don’t. Just breathe with me.”
Cheek pressed against his chest, she followed the rise and fall of his lungs until her own breath slowed to match. Christian’s arm tightened around her—a tether, something to hold her here in this moment until tomorrow, when they left Perileos for good and ran out into the unknown.
Little by little, exhaustion reclaimed her. But this time, as she drifted, it was to the rhythm of his heartbeat instead of the echo of her fears.