Page 31 of Command

Damn it, Alina.Did she have to keep reminding him about the stabbing? She squeezed the synthskin to the injury and smoothed it over with her fingertips as neatly as she could. She was no medic, but Alina thought it looked pretty good. “After this I’ll moisten your skin cracks. Yourapertures. They look dry again.”

The openings contracted a little, for just a moment, and Alina felt a pang of motivation. Thathadto be a response. He must be hearing her somehow.

Since Renza had shown her how to do this, she’d had to go through the process multiple times a day, including in the middle of the night. She really needed a shower. After filling the bowl for the job of hydrating Threxin like this, all Alina had left of her meager graywater rations was just enough to brush her teeth.

“You’re looking much better,” she continued as she dabbed the towel along the line of the alien’s jaw, above which an aperture ran from his chin to the spot behind his ear. It swooped nearly seamlessly into another that cut the plane just beneath his broad cheekbone, casting an ethereal glow to already sharp angles. “You’re more glowy than before at least, which has to be a good sign, right?”

She moved through the task methodically. It was always difficult to reach the side of him near the wall.Alina propped a knee on the edge of the bed and a hand on the other side of the mattress, curling herself over her charge to work one-handed at the apertures there. She could see some of the openings dipping below the sheet, along his back, but reaching those was not an option and she doubted it was a good idea to move him at this point anyway.

“Don’t worry,” she grunted as she worked bent over him. “I’m almost done.Oww!Fuck!”

Alina’s arm buckled as a cramp shot through the joint of her elbow. She scrambled to get her other hand underneath her for purchase, the damp towel still clenched in her fist, but it was no use. Her head had landed in the sheets, chin jutting against the alien’s side.

“Crap. Sorry, I—ouch!”

At least she hadn’t fallen onto his wound. Alina scrambled backward across his abdomen as she gripped her seizing arm with the other. “Sorry! Just a second.”

But Threxin gave her no seconds. Two massive arms linked themselves atop her, crushing her to the rock-hard plane beneath.

“Wait!” Alina squeaked, cramp subsiding because apparently her body decided it had bigger things to worry about. Like getting pinned and drawn backward into an uhyre’s chest—his injured chest.

The stitches!

“Threxin?” Alina tried to crane her neck to catch a glimpse of his face, but it was impossible. His jaw was at her neck, his breath hot on her ear. Those fangs wereright there. But his breathing was slow and even, which meant he was still unconscious.

Her ribs ached under the pressure of his pythonic grasp already, and all he had to do was apply a little more to crush her like a bug.

“Threxin? It’s okay. This is fine. You’re… not in danger,” she wheezed, taking shallow breaths because the vise of his forearms crossed against her chest would not let her have anything more. “Just… stay calm.”

Was she talking to him, or to herself? She forced herself to count.

One… Two…

“You can hear me, right? Threxin? Just… let me go. It’s okay,” she tried, to no avail.

Her throat was constricting, her hands heavy and numb even as they dug divots into the alien’s forearms. She couldn’t feel her body, but she felt his. It was a solid slab beneath her, sharp peaks and troughs of alien muscle jutting through her shirt and trousers. She swallowed as she became acutely aware of the plane at which their skin connected.

Three… Four… Five…

She loosened her grip on his arms, realizing trying to peel him off her was futile. His breath was a steady pendulum beneath her, swinging up and down in an uncompromising rhythm. The pounding in her head stuttered, then slowed to meet it. Her own lungs tried instinctively to match it, but she didn’t have room to take the deep inhales he did, not with her ribcage getting crushed like that.

Six…

Alina took stock of her body. Her legs were splayed atop his own, one foot propped on his shin, the other on his thigh. Her butt was at his stomach, and his stomachburned. All of him did. He was cold before, and now this. Was he running a fever? She tried to lift her back a little to take pressure off his wound, but only got herself jerked tighter against him in response, eliciting an airless squeak.

Seven… Eight…

The counting was helping her reconnect with her body, but maybe that wasn’t such a good thing this time. The heat of his breath in her ear, slithering along her earlobe and down the back of her neck, made her feel a little sick. A shiver clenched her gut as she struggled to twist her head from the contact with little success.

She reminded herself to keep the count and focus on the even metronome of motion beneath her. Where was she again?

One… Two… Three…She started again. Bit by bit, thesurge inside her subsided as she managed to focus on the breath… notherbreath, considering she barely had any, but that of her captor.

Four… Five…

Her head grew heavy with the even rhythm of the heat at her neck. He wasn’t letting go, and she stopped hoping for that eventuality, letting her mind wander.

Six… Seven…

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