from her position, glancing around the cave. It was a mess. Jaxor’s hair littered the floor, two empty bottles of that horrendous alcohol among the dark, silky strands. After Erin had stitched Jaxor up, he’d gone all moody and quiet, and had fished out a second bottle from one of the chests. Erin didn’t remember if she’d watched him finish it. She’d probably passed out before then.
Blood was streaked on the floors and on the furs. There was even some on her own legs—from rolling in it during the night?—in addition to Jaxor’s dried seed on her tunic.
“Damn,” she muttered, raking a hand through her tangled hair. She didn’t know how she felt about what happened last night. Strangely, she thought she’d be filled with more mortification and regret. Instead, she only felt a dull pang of reluctant acceptance. Erin was a firm believer in not dwelling on things she couldn’t change.
And last night?
She couldn’t change it.
A part of her didn’t even want to, if she’d had the choice. Because she remembered how it had felt. She’d felt…free. She hadn’t cared about what Jaxor would think of her. She’d wanted something from him and she’d taken it. Erin had never done anything like that in her life. She’d never been so forward or bold or reckless. Ever.
She nodded to the quiet cave, blowing out another quiet puff of air, and pushed up to stand. The fire was still going, giving the cave a delicious warmth, giving her light with which to study Jaxor. In sleep, he still looked grumpy and broody. His lips were turned down, his eyes flickered back and forth underneath his eyelids. Erin traced the sloping lines of his face with her eyes, licking her bottom lip. Something like longing went through her, faint but present.
If Erin found out that she was stuck on Luxiria, that there was no way of returning to Earth, would she want someone like Jaxor? Would she want him to be her partner in life, as a mate? Could she envision him as the father of her children, if she ever had any?
Her shoulders sagged, refusing to answer that because she would be going home. She had to believe that. Quietly, she crept around him before stepping from the entrance of the cave, her eyes darting around for signs of a live kekevir.
She was relieved when she saw none. Instead, she saw that most of the flooding had gone down through the night, no doubt due to Jaxor’s drainage holes, one of them being the pulley system to the east of the base. It had stopped raining and slowly the base was clearing out, leaving behind a sodden mess in its wake.
Erin wanted a proper shower. Desperately. She wanted fresh clothes. But she didn’t dare venture down to the base. There was a dead kekevir still down there, a reminder of the always-present danger. When Erin forced herself to look at it, she saw Jaxor’s knife still embedded in its skull.
Behind her, she heard him begin to rouse, as if his Instinct sensed her missing from the cave.
“Rixella,” he rasped, his voice drowsy from a deep sleep. Was it bad of her to wish he was as hungover as she was?
“I’m here,” she called softly, looking over her shoulder at him. When he finally located her, relief entered his gaze. Perhaps he was too tired to shield it from her.
When he stood, Erin saw his wounds—he must’ve taken the bandage off after she went to sleep. The two deep claw marks from the kekevir were well on their way to healing. Erin knew Luxirians healed fast. One of her guards back in the Golden City had sliced his hand on the edge of a knife once. The next day, the wound was gone, as if it had never happened. She would need to pull the stitches out that morning, so Jaxor’s skin didn’t grow around them.
Erin placed her hand on the nearest stone wall, still feeling a little nauseous. Looking at his wound, remembering how slippery her hands had been with blood, didn’t help.
Her eyes darted up to his hair instead as he approached, as he looked out over the mess of his base and let out a sharp sigh. His haircut suited him—just as she’d thought last night. Just looking at him made her heartbeat pick up in her chest. Handsome male, she thought. It was almost unfair.
There was a long stretch of uncomfortable silence between them. Erin felt her cheeks