Page 101 of The First Spark
Kalie sniffed. “I wish your mom had gotten a second chance.”
Zane pulled back, surprising himself with a smile. “Thank you.”
She stayed silent as he cleaned her back. He tried to count how many minutes had passed, how much time until the timer on the dash trilled and reminded him to make the drop from the route. Autopilot still hadn’t demanded his attention, even after he finished with her back.
He hesitated, twisting a piece of gauze between his fingers.
“I have to bandage that burn. The corset’s in the way.”
She nodded.
Her fire, her smart retorts, her stubborn insistence that there was no way she was undressing for him… he’d expected all of it. That she could only nod was the worst part of all.
Her fire was what had made him feel so alive, and they’d extinguished it.
His fists clenched. Just for that, he wanted to see the traitors suffer.
But she sounded exactly like that exasperating woman he’d met ontheChimaerawhen she said, “You’d better have a change of clothes for me.”
“So demanding. Next time I stage a rescue, I’ll be sure to pack your wardrobe first.”
He could’ve sworn she chuckled.
Zane yanked his duffel towards him, tugging out a sweatshirt and sweats. He tossed them at her, but as she stood and trudged towards the bathroom, he frowned.
“Wait. You have a…” Nicking a piece of gauze, he stood and closed the distance between them. A line of blood dribbled from a cut on her temple, half-hidden by her hair. Zane’s rapid breaths mingled with hers as he leaned closer, dabbing at the gash.
She went still. A blush crept to her cheeks.
“There’s a cut,” he whispered, wiping the blood away. “Here.”
Her shining, pale-blue eyes flitted across his face. She blinked her tears away, and her long lashes fluttered.
Heat rushed to Zane’s face, and he inhaled deeply, trying to stop it—but the faint scent of cherry perfume wafted up his nostrils, and the battle was lost.
Clinical, detached?—
His pulse hammered as he took a step closer. She did too, and her warm breaths ghosted against his skin. With all the blood, she looked terrible. They both did. But standing this close made him feel alive. He could feel every beat of his heart, every hitching breath, every jolt of heat shooting to his face.
But mascara tracks shone on her cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy.
As the timer rang in the cockpit, he’d already stepped back.
Her brows pinched together.
“I’ll drop us from the route.” Zane motioned to the bed. “We’ll have to keep an eye on autopilot, but we can take it in shifts. You should get some rest.”
Before she could protest, he ducked into the cockpit. With trembling hands, he shut the door behind him.
Kalie flopped onto her stomach,punching the balled-up jacket under her head. Huffing, she buried her face in the unwelcoming fabric and tried to make her mind blank. Gods above, she craved sleep. Her mind whirred relentlessly, and a band of pressure tightened around her lungs with each panic-inducing thought. Was Uncle Jerran dead and would she ever see Dali again and what if her parents turned her away from Etov and?—
Kalie groaned, kicked the blankets away, and rolled off the bunk.
In the cockpit, Zane hunched over the dashboard, resting his head on his folded arms as if he was sleeping. She lingered there for a moment, studying the way the emergency lights fell across his powerful arms, the arc of light cresting the shadows of his well-muscled back.
Then he shifted in his seat, and as he muttered a sharp curse, Kalie jolted.
Definitely awake.
