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Emotions swirl through me—anger at the situation, confusion over why I care so much, guilt over my actions, and a bone-deep fear that he might not make it.
“You know, for an alien, you're not so bad,” I say, trying to lighten things up. “I mean, sure, you locked me up in your guest suite and threatened to throw me in the dungeon. But you also tried to save me from the alien wolves, even though I didn’t really need your help. But, hey, now I’m trying to save yours. Funny how things work out, right?”
I take a shaky breath. “It’s just...I need you to wake up, Dex. I need you tolive.”
The adamance of my admission surprises me, but I can't deny the truth of it. With my gut, my heart, and my soul, Ineedthe handsome orc king to live.
And that terrifies me more than anything else on this alien world.
Chapter 22
Sloane
I jerkawake and realize I’m leaning against one of the trees anchoring our lean-to.
Shit. How long was I out? I can’t really tell, but I doubt it was more than a few minutes.
Was it mumbling from Dexari that woke me? He’s thrashing a bit, his face contorted in distress. Hope that his fever broke surges through me, but it’s quickly dashed. He’s still hot. And now, he’s delirious, too.
Most of what he mumbles sounds slurred and doesn’t make sense. But I do catch a few disjointed words that he repeats over and over. “Spikes...mine...genetic match…fated...heir...”
“Shh, it's okay.” I reach for the damp cloth again, using it to soothe him. “I’m here, Dex, I’m here. You're just having a fever dream. Everything's fine.”
I keep talking to him, my voice low and calm. Gradually, his muttering and thrashing subsides. His breathing becomes more even. I press my hand to his forehead, and relief washes over me. His skin feels cooler; the fever finally broke.
“You're doing great, Dex. I think the worst is over.”
As he settles into a more peaceful sleep, I replay his feverish words in my mind. They nag at me, like puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit. Were they random words strung together by his fevered brain or something more? I shake my head. It doesn't matter. What matters is, he’s getting better.
Still, those strange words linger in my mind.
Spikes. Mine. Genetic match. Fated. Heir.
Every so often, I force more water down his throat and use the cloth to bathe his skin. Now when I touch his forehead, it’s cool and clammy instead of burning up. “You did it, big guy. You kicked the fever’s ass.”
What a relief.
Even though I’m exhausted, and I think Dexari is out of the woods, it’s too dangerous out here for me to get more sleep. I stand up and purposely relax all my tense muscles. To get my blood pumping, I shake out my arms, roll my neck, do some side bends and some jumping jacks. When I feel less tense and more alert, I settle back against the tree to keep watch.
What a night this has been. I escaped from the palace, fought off alien wolves, won a standoff with Dexari’s guards, tended to his injuries, and nursed his fever. No wonder I’m exhausted.
Don’t forget about his feverish mumblings, Sloane.
As if Icouldforget. Even now the words repeat in my mind like some sort of mysterious mantra.
Spikes. Mine. Genetic match. Fated. Heir.
When I let my mind wander, a memory hits me.
I remember waking up from a drugged sleep on the slavers’ ship and hearing them talk aboutuniversal breedersandorc spikes,and how many credits the orcs would pay for the humans. I knew whatuniversal breedersmeant and figured that’s what the slavers had planned for me and the other human women caged in the ship’s hold.
At the time, though,orc spikesdidn’t make sense to me. So, I dismissed the phrase as some sort of physical characteristic or description. Now I’m wondering if the phrase has greater significance.
What in the hell areorc spikes? Part of me wants to wake Dexari up and ask him. The other part forces me to wait. He needs rest to fully recover.
It’s daybreak before his breathing pattern changes again and his eye movement increases beneath his closed lids.
Slowly, he regains consciousness. His eyes open, unfocused at first, then sharpening as he takes in his surroundings. When he sees me, recognition dawns on his face.
