Page 11 of Zinnia and the Zombie (Alien Abduction #26)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T he bright crimson of Zinnia’s blood against her pale skin horrified Jaxx. His protective instincts roared to life, and heat surged through his limbs, burning away the lingering weakness that had plagued him since their crash.

His concern for her overrode every other consideration as he gently examined the wound. The cut ran from just below her elbow halfway to her wrist, deep enough that blood flowed freely, but not dangerously so.

“I’m okay,” she said, wincing. “It’s just a cut. Those leaves are sharper than they look.”

“The edges are clean. No signs of toxins.” He tore a strip from the bottom of the shirt she was wearing and wrapped it carefully around her arm.

“I should have been more careful,” she said apologetically. “I got carried away.”

“Your enthusiasm is understandable.” He carefully secured the makeshift bandage. “But perhaps approach unknown species with more caution in the future.”

“I will. Thank you,” she added softly.

“I should not have allowed harm to come to you, my Zinnia.”

“You didn’t.” She flexed her fingers, testing the bandage. “I was the one who was careless, and it’s really not bad.”

“It still requires proper treatment.” The makeshift bandage would stem the bleeding temporarily, but there was still the chance of infection or additional bleeding.

Without asking permission, he scooped her into his arms. Her soft warmth felt natural against his chest, as though she belonged there.

She gasped at the sudden movement, but her uninjured arm wrapped around his neck. “I can walk, you know. It’s just a cut.”

He ignored her half-hearted protest, already moving toward the stairwell. “Conservation of energy is logical. You’re injured.”

Her warmth pressed against him sent energy coursing through his system, and the post-stasis weakness that had clung to him evaporated like morning mist.

When they reached the ground floor, he strode purposefully back towards the previous night’s shelter, then gently set her down.

“The flyer contains a medical kit,” he explained. “Wait here.”

“The ship’s not stable?—”

“I won’t be long.”

Despite his concern, he approached the wreckage cautiously.

Smoke still curled from sections of the hull, and the metal groaned occasionally as it cooled and settled.

The cargo compartment remained partially intact, and he knew exactly where the emergency supplies would be stored.

He should have retrieved them when he examined the ship but at the time he’d simply been checking to see if it would be possible to repair it.

The hatch to the small cargo compartment was jammed, but he wrenched it open, metal screaming in protest. Inside, acrid smoke stung his eyes, but he quickly retrieved the sealed medkit. Mission accomplished, he withdrew from the damaged craft just as a section of the ceiling collapsed behind him.

She gave a relieved sigh when he rejoined her. “Are you all right? I heard something fall.”

“I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t have done something so dangerous.”

“It was a calculated risk.” He knelt beside her, opening the medkit. Inside were the standard emergency supplies: antiseptics, various types of wound sealants, pain suppressors, and diagnostic tools.

He carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage he’d applied. The cut was clean but deep, blood still seeping steadily from the wound. Without the proper medical facilities, there would be scarring, but infection was the greater concern.

“This will sting,” he warned, selecting an antiseptic spray.

She nodded, bracing herself. When he applied it, she hissed through her teeth but didn’t pull away. Her resilience impressed him.

“You’ve treated wounds before,” she observed as he worked.

“Combat training included field medicine.” He gently held her arm, his fingers wrapped around her wrist to stabilize it. “It’s not my area of expertise but I have a good basic knowledge.”

Where his fingers touched her bare skin, his own golden flesh brightened, energy flowing between them in a circuit he could feel but not fully comprehend. The sensation was… pleasurable. Distractingly so.

He selected a clear sealant gel that would bond with her skin cells, creating a protective barrier while accelerating healing, then applied it carefully along the length of the cut.

A subtle scent reached him—pheromones shifting in her system.

Desire. Her pupils had dilated slightly, her pulse quickening beneath his fingertips, just as it had the previous night.

His own body responded instantly to her arousal, and he longed to pull her closer, but he remembered the way she had retreated.

He remembered her fear and uncertainty. He would not push boundaries she had established, regardless of what his instincts demanded.

He cleared his throat and reluctantly released her arm, breaking the connection. “The sealant needs fifteen minutes to fully bond. Then it will protect the wound while accelerating your natural healing process.”

He busied himself repacking the medical supplies, deliberately putting distance between them. When he looked up again, she was watching him with an expression he couldn’t decipher.

“Thank you,” she said, examining her arm. The sealant had already stopped the bleeding, forming a transparent second skin over the wound.

“We should establish our camp in the other building before nightfall,” he said, changing the subject. “You will be more protected there.”

“As long as I stay away from the crystal plants.” She grinned at him. “But I agree that it’s a good idea.”

“I may even be able to tap into some of the power the dome uses.”

Standing, he offered her his hand. She didn’t hesitate to take it, but even that momentary contact sent energy surging through his system. He released her quickly, not trusting himself to maintain his distance if the connection continued.

“We should gather what we can from the crash site first,” she suggested. “See if there is anything useful before the whole thing collapses.”

“Agreed. But you will remain here while I?—”

“Not a chance.” She folded her arms, wincing slightly when the movement pulled at her injured skin. “I’m not an invalid, and we’ll work faster together.”

He recognized the determined set of her jaw, and sighed. This was not a battle he could win.

“Very well,” he conceded. “But you will alert me immediately if you experience any dizziness or if the pain increases.”

Her smile was swift and bright. “Deal.”

After a brief argument, she agreed to sort through what he recovered while he actually entered the wreck.

Most of the contents were unsalvageable, but he managed to recover some emergency rations, a portable illumination unit, and several tools while she sorted through several of the larger containers he retrieved.

“What about this?” She held up a small device with a cracked display.

“Atmospheric analyzer,” he identified. “Potentially useful if we can repair it.”

She added it to their growing collection of salvage. “You know, on Earth, I’m considered pretty self-sufficient. I can change a tire, rewire a lamp, even fix my own plumbing. But this…” She gestured at the technology surrounding them. “This makes me feel completely out of my depth.”

“You’re adapting well,” he said sincerely. “Many would be catatonic with fear in your situation.”

“I would be more terrified if you weren’t here.” Her lips quirked. “Or maybe if you weren’t a giant golden alien.”

“An understandable reaction,” he agreed gravely, and she laughed.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“We should transport these materials to our new location,” he said, gathering the most essential items. “We can return tomorrow for anything remaining.”

He fashioned a crude carrying sling from salvaged fabric and they began the trek back to the garden building. She moved more slowly than before, her injury clearly taking a toll, and he watched her closely, alert for any sign that she was on the verge of collapse.

When they reached the building, he insisted on carrying their supplies up the stairwell. “Rest here. I’ll return for you.”

To his surprise, she didn’t argue, simply nodding and sinking down onto a fallen column. Her compliance concerned him more than any protest would have. She was reaching her limits.

He quickly transported their salvaged goods to the rooftop garden, but on his return, he found her with her head leaned back against the stone, eyes closed.

“Zinnia?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Just resting my eyes. Lost more blood than I thought, I guess.”

He lifted her into his arms and she let her head rest against his shoulder with a quiet sigh.

“This is becoming a habit,” she murmured as he carried her up the stairs.

“I find I don’t mind,” he replied truthfully.

By the time they reached the garden, the sun was high overhead. He set her down on a shady stone bench near a reflecting pool, then knelt down to examine her arm.

“Does it pain you?”

“It’s more of a throb now. The sealant helps.”

“I have pain suppressants if?—”

“I’m okay,” she assured him. “Really. Just tired.”

“The rest. I’ll find a good spot to create a shelter and gather more food.”

He started to rise, but she reached out and put her hand on his arm.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For taking care of me today.”

“I will always ensure your safety,” he replied, the words emerging as a vow.

The corner of her mouth lifted in a tired smile. “I believe you.”

She leaned back against the bench and was asleep before he’d gone more than two paces.