Page 26 of Risking Her Heart

“What?” she asks, but her cheeks flush soft pink and she can’t meet my eyes. She shifts her feet, looking over at the Zmaj. “They’re telling your Zmaj about what has been happening. Are you and him? Shit, Kitty, your arm. We have medical.”

“Do not change the subject,” I admonish.

She flushes deeper edging to a full on crimson.

“I didn’t know…” she trails off.

“Jax, please,” I say.

She sighs, shaking her head.

“Right,” she exhales heavily. “We knew there were survivors.”

“And you didn’t come to find me? Why? You were my best friend!”

“Am,” she corrects, meeting my eyes at last. “I am.”

“Are you sure about that? You left me thinking you were dead for over a year!”

“Not you,” she says, holding up a finger. “I had no idea you were among the survivors. We knew there were humans, that’s all. There’s been a… well a lot happening.”

“How did you get here? I thought…” I can’t finish because my throat clenches up.

“I know,” she says, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Believe me. I thought I’d lost you too.”

That breaks us both. We pull one another close, being careful of my broken arm, and let the tears of both loss and joy flow.

“I missed you so much,” I say as my tears finally run dry.

“Me too,” she says.

We pull apart and I can’t let go of her. It feels like if I do, she’ll fade away like a mirage in the desert. The Zmaj have wanderedaway as they continue their discussions among themselves, leaving Jax and I alone in this room.

“Okay, tell me, how?”

“The escape pod you two found? That was me.”

“Oh,” I say. “You made it to one.”

“Yeah. These guys found me out there and, well it’s been a lot but,” she shrugs then motions with her hands up and down her body. “Here I am, and I don’t think you’ve noticed yet, it’s early, but…”

She ends with her hands on her belly. I stare in absolute disbelief.

“You’re…”

“Yeah,” she laughs with a note of uncertainty. “You’re going to be Auntie Kit.”

“Oh,” I blink unable to say more as I try to process this.

“I know, it’s a lot,” she says.

“One of… them?”

“Yes,” she says. “He’s my treasure.”

“Treasure,” I echo. “I know that word. You… you speak their language?”

“Pretty much had to,” she says. “I’ve been living with them for a year or more now.”

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