Page 22 of Orc’s Redemption (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss #35)

22

ELARA

D arkness swallows me whole.

I scream, but the sound dies, smothered by dust, heat, and motion?—

Then impact.

I slam down hard, my shoulder striking something sharp. Pain explodes along my side.

I can’t breathe.

I gasp, struggling to drag air into my lungs?—

A thud shakes the ground beside me.

It’s too dark to see more than a shape. Just enough to know that it’s another body.

My heart leaps fearfully into my throat. A hiss cuts through the darkness—Ryatuv’s voice. Relief floods me just as another crash shakes the floor. Z’leni tumbles down, rolling to a stop with a pained grunt.

My breath rushes back, lungs burning as I gasp sweet oxygen. Everything hurts, bad. I’m not sure yet if anything is broken, but it feels like everything might be.

I try to sit up, but a lightning bolt of pain flares through my ribs. I gasp and fall back, tears springing to my eyes. Every shallow breath feels like knives slicing my side.

“Elara,” Ryatuv’s voice is close, urgent.

“Back off, lizard,” Z’leni snaps harshly.

I open my eyes, but though the torch came down with us, it’s off to one side sputtering, barely alive itself. Protesting the fall too. Everything is dark shadows, but the two shapes over me are clearly the boys. One of them shoves the other.

“Stop,” I whisper but the other one shoves back, either not hearing or ignoring me. “Damn it, stop.”

I speak louder this time and they quit, their heads tilting to me. Two sets of hands touch my sides, running over my limbs. I cry out as pain blossoms on my left side.

“Sit her up,” Ryatuv says.

“She has broken a rib,” Z’leni says. “We need to bind that first.”

“Heh,” Ryatuv grunts. “With what?”

Z’leni growls, but I know him well enough to realize it’s in frustration at the situation, not anger at Ryatuv or me. He moves back and I hear him moving around. He retrieves the torch and moves it closer, bringing at least some illumination.

“I have nothing,” Z’leni admits.

“It is not… right… but we have no choice,” Ryatuv says, staring over me at him.

“What’s not right? What are you thinking?” I wince when my voice goes too high, aggravating the rib again.

They continue staring at one another, ignoring me. I try to sit up and though anger carries me through to my elbows the pain causes me to drop back down, yelping as I do.

“Do not do that,” Z’leni says.

“Wh—wh—what,” I manage to huff between flashes of white-hot, blinding pain.

“I need the bottom part of… your shirt,” Ryatuv says.

“My… shirt?” I ask, pain making me slow because what the hell good does the bottom part of my shirt do anyone?

“We need cloth to bind your ribs,” Z’leni says.

Heat spreads over my chest as I glance between them. I don’t have a bra, I have a long piece of cloth that binds my tits down to keep them from hurting and being annoying. The bottom part of my shirt would do next to nothing, but if we repurpose the binding that would be more effective.

But that will mean letting both these men, whom I definitely have an interest in, each of them, see my tits. Which is nowhere near ready to do. They’ll not only see them but at least one of them is going to be touching me… there. The heat on my chest rises to my cheeks and for the first time I’m thankful for the darkness so they can’t see how red my face must be.

“We have no choice, I am sorry Elara,” Ryatuv says, reaching for my shirt to start his makeshift binding.

“No!” I yelp, both from surprise and pain.

“Elara, the lizard is right, we mus?—”

“No,” I cut him off, speaking softer and not eliciting pain this time. “And don’t call him that. You both saved me, can you at least please stop the name calling?”

Z’leni’s mouth drops open and he stares for a long moment. Then he looks up at Ryatuv and snaps his mouth shut. He blinks, takes a deep breath, then exhales before speaking.

“I apologize,” he says.

I blink too. That was a lot more than I expected. All I had hoped for was to establish a baseline of civility. Ryatuv nods, sharply, accepting the apology.

“There is, a… huh… hmm that hurts… a binding on my uhm… yeah. It will serve better as a binding for my ribs but… I’ll… shit… uhm… I’ll need help.”

If these two were human males, at least in my experience, they’d be slobbering all over themselves at the chance to even see my tits, much less get to touch them even in what should be a casual or clinical manner. Once again, though, they prove themselves to be aliens.

“You are… sure?” Ryatuv says. “I do not wish to… offend.”

“He is right,” Z’leni says. “Such liberty…”

“It’s fine,” I say. “Help me sit up, please?”

They do and though it hurts like hell to get there, being upright is overall better. Once I am anyway. They stay close, clearly unsure what to do next, so I take the lead. Silently undoing my shirt. It parts and though they try not to look too much, they both do. Not that there’s much to see yet, but the show is about to really get going.

Oddly, I’m not feeling self-conscious. When I had the idea I thought I would be, or at least more than I am. But instead of that I feel a strange tingling sensation deep in my core. That familiar tightness that leads to aching need, desire coiling around all my insides like some kind of python forms.

I untuck the binding slowly, my fingers trembling—not from fear, but something else entirely.

Ryatuv’s tail twitches back and forth, a quick, agitated rhythm.

Z’leni draws a sharp breath, his fists clenching at his sides.

When I finally let the cloth fall, the cool air hardens my nipples instantly. Both of them freeze, staring, and for once, I don’t feel embarrassed. I feel powerful .

“We need to… rewrap it… lower…” I say.

You’d think I threw fresh meat in front of a starving animal. They lunge at the same time, colliding with a grunt. Ryatuv bares his teeth; Z’leni growls low in his throat. I smile and in a rare display of wantonness I thrust my chest forward so my ample sized tits jut forward. The cool air of the cavern has already done its work on my nipples which are painfully hard.

“Move,” Ryatuv hisses.

“You,” Z’leni growls.

“Boys,” I murmur, my voice full of heat. “Calm. Take turns.”

They stop messing with each other and both look abashed. I smile and feeling more frisky than I think I ever have in my life, I touch both their faces.

And they do. I hold the start of the cloth in place and they wind it around my back, handing it off to each other. There are more than a few contacts of flesh on flesh and more than once I whimper with suppressed pleasure while one or the other of them groan. The pain is there, but the pleasurable sensations are riding roughshod over it.

Finally they’re done. My tits are half bound but my ribs are tight and though it still hurts, it isn’t nearly as sharp when I inhale and I can take a mostly full breath. I button up my shirt, and while I do, they both watch with clear disappointment on their faces.

What if… could I… would they?

The three of us are here, but we’re trapped. Which is a much bigger problem than any crazy fantasy that is never going to happen. I hold out my arms and they both grab on, helping me to my feet. I wince, but its workable. And for the first time I look around at where we are.

The space is small, a collapsed chamber, half-buried under rubble. Dust hangs thick in the air, glowing in the torchlight clutched in Z’leni’s hand. Looking up we fell through the roof, but that opening is already closing over us. The crack above shrinks as broken stone rains down, sealing that exit.

Z’leni moves around, cursing in his native tongue.

“Gada,” he growls, pacing the perimeter. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“No shit,” I say, slowly looking around for any way out of here.

My side pulses, but I ignore it. Ryatuv is silent. Still. His breathing is hard and sharp, and his eyes are fixed on Z’leni.

“You knew,” he says, low and deadly.

“I didn’t know the floor would collapse,” Z’leni snaps back. “You think I want to be trapped in here with you?”

Z’leni moves over and they’re standing close now. Too close. The tension is thick. Coiled and sharp like a tripwire waiting to snap.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s not kill each other before something else gets the chance.”

Ryatuv’s wings flex open, brushing the narrow walls. Dust rains down from the ceiling.

Z’leni’s hand drops to the weapon at his belt, fingers tapping it like a warning.

“You’re too emotional,” Z’leni says, his voice low and scathing. “That’s why you’ll die first.”

“And you feel nothing. You’d let her die if it suited your mission.”

“She’s not yours to protect,” Z’leni spits.

“She’s not yours to use.”

“Both of you—stop,” I say, stepping between them, heart pounding.

They look at me, finally. Good. I take a shaky breath and keep my voice steady.

“Whatever is hunting us? It doesn’t care if you two have a pissing contest. We need to figure a way out of here. Together.”

A beat of silence. Then Z’leni turns away, retreating to the far end of the small chamber. He lowers himself to one knee, checking the gear strapped to his belt. Ryatuv leans against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze simmering. The space is tight. Stifling. We’ll need to stay here until we figure out a path forward. Hours, maybe. Longer, if we’re unlucky.

And the Forgotten… they’re not likely to be far. Time passes. I don’t know how long, but the air is growing colder. Z’leni hasn’t spoken since the fight. Ryatuv hasn’t looked at him once. I sit between them, the torch flickering low at my side.

My wrist throbs in sharp contrast to the dull ache in my ribs. I glance at it and see a bruise has spread and the veins have darkened beneath the skin.

“Let me see,” Ryatuv says quietly.

I hesitate. Then hold it out.

Ryatuv cradles my wrist like it’s something fragile, precious. His thumb grazes the bruised skin, feather-light.

“You should’ve told me,” he murmurs. “I would have been more careful with you.”

“You were busy,” I say. “Posturing.”

That gets the smallest huff of amusement from him.

“I wasn’t posturing,” he says. “I was… protecting.”

Z’leni snorts from across the room. “You keep calling it that.”

“He saved my life,” I say, glaring at him.

“So did I,” Z’leni shrugs.

Gods, they’re both impossible. But it’s strange…

I feel both of them, their presence like heat in my skin. This room is small. The shadows press close. My body trembles from the fight, but my mind is sharper. I don’t miss the way Z’leni watches me when he thinks I’m not looking. How his gaze lingers. Calculating. Interested. And Ryatuv…

He hasn’t let go of my arm. His thumb strokes once over my skin. Then again.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “That you got hurt.”

Something twists inside me.

“I’m not made of glass,” I whisper.

“No. You’re not,” Ryatuv says, looking up, our eyes locking.

There’s something in his gaze that makes my breath catch. Something intense. Unyielding. And then Z’leni shifts closer. He kneels across from us, watching me.

“You don’t belong here,” Z’leni says softly. “You should hate both of us. You should fear us.”

I don’t answer. Because he’s not wrong. But I’m not afraid. Not of them. What scares me is how little I want to leave this moment. What terrifies me isn’t them.

It’s how much I want to fall into their arms.

How much a part of me already has.