Chapter 10

My belly is full of fresh food, protein straight from Mother Nature for the first time in a year, and it makes me giddy. Real food. Not a frozen bar. Not a dry veg packet or a multivitamin. On top of the tart berries I scarfed down earlier, the chance to wash the blood from my hands and clothes—both my soul and my body have been fed today.

I want to throw myself at Viz'en's feet, tell him how grateful I am for his kindness, but I'm not an idiot. I know he loathes me. I know he's only helping me so I survive long enough to be arrested.

But I don't care. He didn't have to give me the fish. He could have dragged my weak body out of this jungle and let the police take charge of reviving me.

I don't know his background. I don't know why Aezok targeted him. But Viz'en is a good man. He didn't like seeing me struggle. He didn't go out of his way to help me last night, but that's not his job. He guarded our sleep. He took care of me when I passed out earlier (geez, talk about embarrassing). Dehydration and low blood sugar. He caught me food.

And he likes to look at my body, for all he barks orders and turns away.

If I were a different woman, I could use that to help me escape. I could seduce him. I flush, tucking my hair behind my ears as I check the dryness level of Inde's pants. I could . . . negotiate.

Biting hard on my lower lip, I shake my head. But that's not me. I'm naturally shy with guys. And this past year destroyed every spark of life from my personality. Acting like a robot was the only thing that got me through it—obeying Aezok, taking samples from screaming beasties, and ignoring the 100 percent creep-factor of Inde. Old Mara is gone, burned away. Only meek Mara exists now. This Mara can admire Viz'en's alpha male hotness and fish-catching skills, but she'll never make a move on him. He's too big. Too wild.

He could hurt me.

My abdomen throbs, the suddenness of the pain forcing me to bend in half as I suck in a shallow breath. The rocks under my rear dig into my skin when I try to hide my writhing movement. I can't smother my gasp of pain, however, and I turn my face away when Viz'en's head tilts in my direction.

I don't want him to know I might be pregnant with his alien baby. It's not his responsibility. He was raped; his semen stolen without his consent. And it might not even be his. I shudder. I might not even be pregnant. I might be bleeding internally from that prod.

Maybe it wasn't an impregnation attempt at all. Maybe I'm now a carrier of some obscure alien disease.

Goosebumps rise on my skin as a cloud passes over the sun. One thing I know for sure is I'm not going back to that lab to ask Aezok what he did to me.

Viz'en picks up Inde's pants and waves them in my face. "Let's go."

They're still damp, but I yank them up my legs and stand quickly. Too quickly. My right foot slips on a rock and my arms pinwheel as I try to catch my balance before I fall in the river. It's no use, I'm going down.

My startled, "Eep," cuts off, however, as Viz'en snatches my arm and yanks me back. I crash into his chest, my neck angled so I'm staring up at his clenched jaw. My heart stops beating for a long moment, the shock of how fast he moved to catch me causing my brain to stutter. The heat radiating from his body is like being hugged by a stovetop.

"Thanks," I breathe, watching a muscle move in his cheek. From this close, my eyes can't help but trace across his full lower lip, the way it's slightly indented in the middle.

I inhale shallowly, my nose catching a hint of smokiness, and wait for him to set me on my feet. Instead, the arms around my body tighten. I'm suddenly staring into his coal black irises. And then his mouth is on mine.

The kiss starts hard, almost punishing, as he presses his tongue past my lips and moves a hand to grip my chin. But as soon as my surprise morphs to eager participation, his touch softens, and his exploration of my mouth turns into a gentle probing. I kiss him back, my body catapulted into a fever of desire. All I can feel is the heat of his lips, the press of his chest against mine, and the heaviness of the hand he moves to my hip, holding me against him.

I'm so touch-starved, it's almost overwhelming, the wash of heat sweeping through me. I haven't felt it in so long. I want it to last. I want more.

I want my own hands on his skin. I want to trace the muscles of his corded forearms, the slabs of his pectorals. I dig my fingertips into his chest, standing on my tiptoes to chase a deeper kiss, when he suddenly shoves me backward.

I land hard on the rocky beach, my teeth clacking together audibly. I'm momentarily stunned, blinking up at his shadowed form. The sun is behind him, making it impossible to read his expression.

Touching a hand against my swollen lips, my brain working to shake off the haze of lust clouding my thoughts, I croak, "What—"

"Deceiver," he hisses as he backs up a step. "Mordren. You have been in my arms before. I remember. What did you do to me in my cell? Did you drug me?"

He shakes his head hard. "I can't force the full memory to come. But I know what I felt. Did you force me to fuck you?" He sneers. "I hope it sucked. I hope I was so drugged, my cock didn't even stir."

My mouth falls open. He doesn't remember Inde's assault? He thinks I drugged him, raped him? The irony is so horrifying, I can't force myself to speak. Instead, I stare at him, at the revulsion on his face, and my insides shrivel.

And he's not wrong. I may not have been the one to hold him down and hook him up to that pump, but I was there. And I didn't stop it from happening.

I close my mouth. Maybe it's better for him to think it was me in that cell, forcing him, than to know the clinical truth. Inde milked him for his sperm. And that sperm is now in me, fertilizing me.

Maybe. Probably.

Shivering, I wrap my arms around my waist, feeling the press of my slightly swollen abdomen against my forearms.

Viz'en strides away. I don't watch him go. My damp clothes are cold against my skin.

I hope he leaves me here. With the water and the fish, I can survive on my own. Closing my eyes, I tilt my face so the sun warms me. I let the swishing sound of the river's flow fill my ears. A bird calls from a distance away, a long, lonely cry. Tears build behind my closed eyelids. I can still feel the press of his lips against mine, scorching me.

A shadow crosses the sun and I'm abruptly on my feet again, Viz'en binding my arms at my sides with a vine. He lifts me easily, and with long strides carries me to the tree line. I blink rapidly, willing the tears to dissipate so I can force a rasping protest from my throat. I try to struggle, but he stands me against a wide tree trunk and wraps his vine around it. In seconds, I'm bound in place.

I stare down at the vine, bucking hard against it, but it's too tight. "Hey," I say to Viz'en's rapidly vanishing back, "what are you doing? Untie me!" He doesn't stop. "Viz'en!"

He's gone.

I'm alone in the jungle. Tied to a tree.

Fear blooms in my chest. I'm going to die here. I writhe against the vine, flexing my arms and my hips, but it holds me fast. My heartbeat is cannon fire in my ears, thudding and blasting at a pace it can't sustain. I'm gasping, shoving against the vine, I can't get enough air in my lungs.

Panic attack, my brain catalogs.

I know it's a goddamn panic attack!I want to shout. But labeling it doesn't help it ease. Black dots pop in and out in my tunneling vision. I dig my fingernails into the vine, ripping into the thick, hard fibers, but I can't get through them.

My weight sags as my knees buckle. The vine keeps me pressed to the tree, pushing uncomfortably against my chest and deflating my lungs. I have to get to my feet again or I'll asphyxiate myself. My slippers slide across the dirt, scrabbling, until I manage to get them underneath me.

Gasping a shuddering breath, I will myself to calm down. I force myself to inhale. Exhale. To stop crying. To tilt my head back until I can focus on the swaying branches far above my head, and the way they scatter the sunlight as it falls to the forest floor.

The rich smell of dirt and vegetation hits me as I suck down deep breath after deep breath.

The bark against my back is hard, firm. The tree is immense, looming over me like a sentinel.

My pulse steadies.

Eventually, I can think again.

Knocking my head back against the tree, I firm my chin. I'm not going to die here. I didn't survive a year in hell just to die by a pretty, peaceful river. I'm going to get out of this binding. I'm going to make my own way to civilization. And I'm going to find a way to make myself safe if it takes the rest of my life.

AFTERhours of wriggling and straining, the vine is so saturated with blood from my raw fingertips and jagged nails that it's almost slippery. It's finally loose enough I can twist out from beneath it.

With fear a constant presence in the back of my mind as I thrashed and squirmed, it takes a long moment of sitting in the dirt to realize my fear is gone, and in its place, anger burns. Viz'en left me here. He left me tied up and vulnerable, knowing I wouldn't be able to eat or drink anything. Knowing there are predators nearby.

My life is worth less to him than his revenge. He would rather risk my death before he has the chance of handing me into police custody than spend a single more moment in my company.

My injured fingers tighten into hard fists.

I know he despises me. And some of that is earned. But I don't deserve to pay with my life.

He left me here to die. I could still die if I don't get the scent of blood off of my hands. If I don't start moving and find shelter for the night.

He kissed me. And then he effectively murdered me. My anger is a cold fire in my middle, fueled both with loathing for Viz'en's duplicity and reproach for myself. I should have known better. I should never have let down my guard.

I sit in the dirt for another few minutes, cradling my aching, burning hands, before I heft myself to my feet again. I rinse my hands in the river, and the cool water makes the abrasions burn like fire. I flinch back, hissing out an angry exhalation, before forcing myself to rinse them again. I probably just introduced a million germs into my body, but I'd rather deal with an infection than be eaten by a gnaar, whatever that is.

We'd been walking west before we veered in this direction to find the river. If I assume west means civilization, I should head that way, too. The sun is low in the sky, and I don't have long before I'll need to find a way to reach the canopy to sleep, but I want to get moving. I want to get away from this river, from that tree and that vine.

First though, I pick through the stones lining the riverbed until I find one the size of my fist with a sharp, tapered point. I slip it into my pocket for later. No one's tying me up again in this jungle. If Viz'en comes back for me, I won't make it easy on him to hurt me again.

I find another rock, slightly larger and without any sharp edges and cradle it against my hip as I head for the tree line again.

Biting my lip against the pain in my hands, I wrap a loose, fallen vine around the stone and knot it. Swinging it back and forth a few times, I grin. The rock at the end of the vine whistles as I whip it around my head. It's not much, but it's a weapon. A flail, I think it's called.

I sling the rope across my shoulder and tie it loosely. The rock thumps against my back as I start to walk, but it's not painful.

I hike for a while, walking toward the setting sun, until the jungle light dims enough that I start to stumble over the roots. I need to climb a vine, but my shoulder muscles still ache from last night's climb. And my hands are so raw, I'm not sure I'll be able to wrap them around a vine to pull myself up.

But I have to. Gritting my teeth, I tug on the vines dangling around me until I find one that stays put. After I knot it, however, I'm utterly defeated. I can't climb. My hands won't grip the vine. And my arms won't lift my body.

I try again and again, frustrated tears streaming down my face, before I give up. The sun is almost gone now, a slip of orange at the horizon blinking at me through the graying greenery.

Defeat settles in my heart like a lead balloon. And the nape of my neck prickles. I'm exposed and vulnerable on the ground like this. But I can't do anything about it. I pull the sharp rock from my pocket and cradle it in my sore hands.

Then, my shoulders slumped, I curl up at the base of a tree. The roots keep me out of the dirt, but I know I won't be able to sleep. So many worries and hurts buzz in my brain, I stare sightlessly into the night sky for a long time. Goosebumps tingle to life on my skin. My tongue wets my lips; my stomach rumbles, wanting more fresh protein. With the memory, my traitorous brain recalls the scent of Viz'en's skin, smoky and rich . . . I lick my lips again. Too bad he's such an asshole.

It takes an unnatural noise to shake me from my waking stupor. A rasping sound, like a leaf skittering across a parking lot on a windy day. But there's no wind tonight.

I squint, trying to peer into the darkness around me, but all my eyes can make out are the black, bulbous shapes of the nearby roots.

The rasp deepens, turning into the grate of sandpaper against steel. Or giant scales against a tree trunk.

Maybe a gnaar isn't an alien jaguar. Maybe it's an alien python. A giant snake. A giant snake with giant fangs. Oh God. I scramble to my feet, my head on a swivel.

No matter how hard I stare, it's impossible for my eyes to penetrate the black depths surrounding me. But the sounds, they're only swelling. The scrape of thick scales, my panicked exhales . . .

With a start, I remember the vine I strapped across my chest, and the thick rock at the end of it. I unwind the flail from my body. My hands shake as I start to swing it around my head, the rock at the end of it making a whirring noise as it spins.

I turn in a circle, the flail wheeling above my head like a helicopter rotor. The whooshing sound of its passage, rhythmic and regular, calms me. I'm in control. I have a weapon. Nothing can get close to me.

Eyes blink into focus just past my spinning rock. They're bright green, so bright they're almost neon, and they're focused on me.

I swallow hard, spinning my arm faster through the air. They're slitted horizontally, like goat eyes, not vertically like a snake. Whatever this creature is, it's not solely reptilian.

A large shadow moves across the tree trunk opposite me. My brain falters as I realize its body is wrapped around the tree even as its head bobs in the air only feet away from me. It's huge. With a long, thick rasp, the creature unwinds another coil, lifting its diamond-shaped head higher into the air. The green-goat eyes glow brighter.

I can't stop the shocked scream escaping my open mouth. It's too large to be real. I've never seen a snake that large. But it's not a snake. It has arms. Three sets of arms hang from its swaying body. And that face, reptilian and ape-like at the same time. Does it have brow ridges?

My stomach churns.

I have zero faith in my ability to actually hit those eyes with my flail, but the scaled creature doesn't know that. I yank the vine around my head, forcing myself to be faster, making the vine sing.

The serpent's heavy tail drops the rest of the way from the tree trunk to the ground, the coils thicker than my body. It lifts its head higher, a forked tongue flickering at me in the midnight air. With another rasp, the creature's undulation moves it closer.

My mouth opens in disbelief. I shake my head. "You're not real."

The shape flickers in and out of focus. The green eyes dance in front of me, confusing my senses. That green is the only light in the jungle. For a long moment, human-shaped eyes seem to be staring at me before the pupils shift again. The red mouth opens, hissing something. A scaled limb reaches for me; the three-fingered claws at the end of it are sickle-shaped and long.

I shake my head, all of my senses screaming at me to run, to hide. Am I getting dizzy? My wrist aches from the force of whirling the vine and the rock above my head. At the same time, my brain struggles to create a word for what is looming across from me. A shape-shifting snake? A scaled, clawed ape with a snake tail? In the gloom, it's hard to decide what's real and what's a product of my terrified imagination.

For now, the flail is keeping it away from me, but I won't be able to do this forever. Or even much longer. The way its bobbing head is staring at the rock makes me think it's calculating a strike. My pulse pounds, fear filling my mouth with acid. I can't hold back the whimper building in my throat.

I can't believe this is happening. This shouldn't be happening. Maybe it's a dream. Maybe I'm asleep at the base of my tree, and my brain is being a bitch.

My arm slows a little, and before I have a chance to scream again, the creature whips its tail at me. The impact knocks me into the trunk at my back, my head slamming against the hard surface at the same time my lungs deflate. I blink slowly, my brain screaming at me to get up, run away, but I can't move. I can't breathe. Panic claws at my throat. I can't breathe. The pain in my chest is so intense, it's almost numbing.

The scaled monster is suddenly in front of me, my failed rock weapon dangling from its lower right claw. There's blood on its freaky face, its green eyes narrowed with aggression.

I must have let the flail go when the tail struck me, and my rock must have hit its face.

I grin weakly, proud of myself. But I still can't inhale. My thoughts hazing, I wonder if my ribs are broken. Blackness encroaches across my narrowing vision.

The creature brings the rock high and slams it against my forehead.