Page 45 of Throwing Fire

“Why not?” She shrugs, dark blur on lighter blur. “I’ve got to keep you awake somehow.”

I shake myself out of the haze to ask, “Right now?”

“Yeah, I mean, if it’s something you don’t want to talk about, I’ll understand. I just wondered, you know, am I doing something wrong?”

She’s got to be kidding. “Fuckin’ ... now?”

She blows out an irritated breath. “Well, give me something else to talk about!”

“Not bad.” Fuck me, of all the times. “I don’t like it.”

“I know you’re a little fuzzy right now, but did you just say you don’t like head? Because—” She pauses. I feel the vibration, distant, more of a shiver through my gut and sinuses than anything else, as she adjusts the flaps. “That would be a first. Jeez, Chain didn’t want anything else.”

“Don’t compare met’him.” I give her an answer I probably wouldn’t give under other circumstances. “Reminds me ... of slam.”

“Oh,” she says. “I, uh, I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” She couldn’t possibly understand how it becomes a commodity, a currency, in the hole. Something that should be warm, intimate, intensely pleasurable. There’s none of that. It’s just the quick and dirty release of physical tension. Likeshitting. Nothing other than chains reminds me more of the five years I lost. “Tell you... ‘nother time.”

“Good—” She’s interrupted by a shudder. The muted, metallic clank of the landing claws grasping the landing platform. She breathes out, a gust of deep relief. “Because we’re here.”

I hear her throw off her flight webbing and climb out of her chair. But I can’t see it; even the grey blur has darkened to blackness.

CHAPTER 18

Iwake slow. Slow but not easy. Fighting my way up through the suffocating layers of unconsciousness. Even before I’m fully awake, I know Kez isn’t beside me.

I know she’s not safe.

I blink painfully. Feel the tug of my eyelids as they stick together. Reach up and rub them and spare a moment’s gratitude that I can use both my hands again.

A dark shape moves in my peripheral vision. Her hot jasmine scent registers before I turn my head to look at her. The motion makes me slightly queasy, and I hope that’s because of the squishiness of whatever I’m lying in – feels like liquid, although I don’t feel wet – rather than a permanent head injury.

“Myhre,” I say. ‘Least I’m not slurring anymore, although my voice is rough and rusty.

“How are you feeling?” She puts her hand on my shoulder, warm pressure through whatever soft cloth I’m wearing. She’s touched me less than a dozen times in the two weeks I’ve known her. I must have been seriously fucked up.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Better than I was at any rate. I ache like amotherfucker, and my thoughts are weirdly disjointed. But at least I can use all my limbs again. “Where’s Kez?”

“With Chiara. Something to do with her contract celebration.”

I grunt. My kitten’s a busy woman. I wouldn’t expect her to wait by my sick bed. Only she did when I collapsed from that infection. That she’s not here bothers me more than it should.

I shake it off. Stretch and assess. There’s still a deep ache in my right shoulder. Tightness across my back. A numb, tingly feeling in my right hip and thigh. But I can move everything. I reach out and grip the right edge of the long cradle I’m lying in. My grip feels strong and sure.

“No, you’re not supposed to move,” Myhre says. She pushes down on my shoulder with surprising strength. More than I expect. Maybe she’s a closet Mod. Or maybe I’m just that weak.

“How long?” I ask.

“Have you been under? Thirty-two hours. I don’t know if you have any idea how injured you were. Or how lucky.” She rubs my shoulder now that I’m not trying to move. “I know Kezra doesn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She leans over and her face comes into sharp focus. “She said you knew. Before the skimmer malfunctioned. You knew somehow and grabbed her. You shielded her from the explosion and cushioned her fall. Not many men would do that.” Myhre sits back, still rubbing my shoulder. “Kezra walked away with a sprained ankle and some cuts and bruises.”

Any man worth the name would do that for his woman. Acker would understand. I spare a moment to wonder if he’s heard about the crash. Make a mental note to have Kez plex Tiancha to make sure the rats know we’re all right. Wouldn’t want our brand-new allies thinking we’ve died and left them out in the cold already.

“Wasn’t a malfunction,” I tell Myhre, remembering that moment where the fire blossomed in Kez’s eyes. “It was a hit. Get Chi and Kez back to the Warren. I want everyone where I can see them.”