21. Sloane

Chapter 21

Sloane

I'm going to lose my mind.

Dexari is scary still under our makeshift lean-to, his skin burning hot to the touch. His breathing is shallow, and sweat beads on his forehead, rolling down his temples in tiny rivulets.

I don't know the first thing about treating an alien orc fever from a possible infection. If I leave to find help, he might die before I get back. But if I stay and do nothing, he might die anyway.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I mutter, pacing back and forth. Every time I glance at Dexari something twists in my chest, an emotion I don't fully understand. All I know is that it's telling me to do something.

"Okay, Sloane, think. What would MacGyver do? Or, better yet, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?"

She'd do what she can to cool his fever.

I grab one of the canteens the guards left behind and moisten the bloody fabric bandages. Then, I use a bit of warm ash from the fire as a cleansing agent and rinse the bandages as best I can.

Kneeling beside Dexari, I use the cool, wet fabric to bathe his face, neck, and upper body. Then, I add a bit more water and start again. Even in the lower temperature of night, his skin is so hot it's almost painful to touch.

"You'd better not die on me," I whisper out loud, hoping he can somehow hear me.

Even burning with fever, he's breathtaking. As I run the cloth over his defined muscles and eight-pack abs, his scars hint at battles I can only imagine. I shake my head, trying to clear it. Now is not the time for...whatever this is.

"You need to fight this for us, for me," I murmur. "I can't make it on this planet without you."

Hmm. When did I start thinking of us as a team ?

As I continue wiping him down with the cool cloth, I pray to whatever gods might be listening in this alien world. Please, don't let him die. Please don't let him die. Please don't let him die.

As the night goes on, I keep talking to him out loud. I'm not sure he can hear me, but talking helps keep the panic at bay and makes me feel less alone. I keep my voice barely above a whisper so I don't attract unwanted attention from the dark forest.

"You know, back on Earth, I had a pretty good life. I had parents who loved me, friends who made me laugh. I was an only child, and we lived on a cul-de-sac in the suburbs. We weren't rich or anything, but there was enough money for me to go to college. I bet it was hard for my mom and dad when I went missing. Did they blame themselves? I hope not."

I rewet the cloth, running it gently across his forehead. "I miss everything about them. Even my mom's mad helicopter parenting skills and my dad's bad jokes and obsession with vintage cars. I wonder if I'll ever see them again."

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow hard. "Probably not, huh? I mean, even if I could find a way off this planet, Earth is...God knows how far away. As you know, my experiences in space haven't been great. You seem like a decent guy. Fair, level-headed, reasonable. Staying here might not be so bad. Especially since I've made friends with a dragalor. His name is Zephyr, by the way, and he's great. He brought me a handy, dandy pocket knife with lots of useful tools, and a grappling hook to climb over the wall."

I realize I'm babbling, but I can't seem to stop. It's like, if I just keep talking to Denari, he'll eventually open his eyes and give me that sexy smile of his.

"I could probably make a decent life here on this orc planet of yours, as long as I'm not a slave. After I serve out my punishment, of course."

I let my mind wander, imagining what that life might look like, and my thoughts immediately picture me and Dexari. Together.

Based on our current chemistry, I bet the sex would be off-the-charts hot. But he's a freaking king, and I'm, well, technically a slave. And a criminal. Talk about a mismatch.

Still, it's a fun thing to imagine. Especially the sex part. And now I'm kicking myself for not kissing him earlier. If we had met under different circumstances, would we have clicked?

I push that thought away and force a few sips of water into his mouth, hoping it's helping in some way. "Even though you're pretty, all those scars tell me you're a fighter like me. I'm counting on you to give this fight everything you've got. Can you do that, Dex? It's okay if I call you Dex, isn't it?"

Eventually, exhaustion sets in, and my arms shake with fatigue as I continue wiping him down. "I'm sorry for sending your guards away, for making you stay out here when you were hurt. I didn't know what else to do. For the record, I wouldn't have killed you with the dagger. I hope you know that. I was just... scared."

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 to live. "

The adamance of my admission surprises me, but I can't deny the truth of it. With my gut, my heart, and my soul, I need the handsome orc king to live.

And that terrifies me more than anything else on this alien world.