Cress (The Lunar Chronicles #3) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,37
“Wha—huh?”
“It’s all right. I’m here. We’re safe.”
Thorne dragged his tongue around his lips, then shut his eyes again. “Thorne,” he grunted. “Most people call me Thorne. Or Captain.”
Her heart lifted. “Of course, Tho—Captain. Are you in pain?”
He shifted uncomfortably, discovering that his hands were still tied. “I feel like my brain’s about to leak out through my ears, but otherwise, I feel great.”
Cress inspected the back of his head with her fingers. There was no dampness, so at least he wasn’t bleeding. “You hit your head pretty hard.”
He grunted and tried to wriggle his hands out of the knotted blanket.
“Hold on, there was that knife…” She trailed off, scouring the clutter and debris around them.
“It fell off the bed,” said Thorne.
“Yes, I saw it … there!” She spotted the knife handle lodged beneath a fallen screen and went to grab for it, but her hair had gotten so wrapped up around her and Thorne that it yanked her back. She yelped and rubbed at her scalp.
He opened his eyes again, frowning. “I don’t remember being tied together before.”
“I’m sorry, my hair gets everywhere sometimes and … if you could just … here, roll this way.”
She grabbed his elbow and nudged him onto his side. With a scowl, he complied, allowing her enough movement to reach the knife handle.
“Are you sure it’s over—” Thorne started, but she had already draped herself over his side and was sawing through the blanket. “Oh. You have a good memory.”
“Hm?” she murmured, focused on the sharp blade. It frayed easily and Thorne sighed with relief as it fell away. He rubbed his wrists, then reached toward his head. When the tangles of Cress’s hair tried to hold him back, he tugged harder.
Cress yelped and crashed into Thorne’s chest. He didn’t seem to notice as his fingers found the back of his scalp. “Ow,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“This bump is going to last awhile. Here, feel this.”
“What?”
He fished around for her hand, then brought it to the back of his head. “I have a huge bump back here. No wonder I have such a headache.”
He did, indeed, have an impressive bump on his scalp, but Cress could think only of the softness of his hair and the way she was practically lying on top of him. She blushed.
“Yes. Right. You should probably, um…”
She had no idea what he should probably do.
Kiss her, she thought. Isn’t that what people did after they survived thrilling, near-death experiences together? She was sure it wasn’t an appropriate suggestion, but this close, it was all she could think about. She yearned to lean in closer, to press her nose into the fabric of his shirt and inhale deeply, but she didn’t want him thinking she was odd. Or guessing the truth, that this moment, filled with injuries and her destroyed satellite and being separated from his friends, was the most perfect moment of her entire life.
His brow creased and he picked at a lock of hair that had tightened around his bicep. “We need to do something about this hair.”
“Right. Right!” She shifted away, her scalp screaming as her hair was trapped beneath them. She started to untangle the strands, gently, one by one.
“Maybe it would help if we turned on the lights.”
She paused. “The lights?”
“Are they voice activated? If the computer system went down in the fall … spades, it must be the middle of the night. Is there a portscreen or something we can turn on, at least?”
Cress cocked her head. “I … I don’t understand.”
For the briefest moment, he seemed annoyed. “It would help if we could see.”
His eyes were open, but he was looking blankly past Cress’s shoulder. He pried away some strands of hair that had gotten twisted around his wrist, then waved his hand in front of his face. “This is the blackest night I’ve ever seen. We must be somewhere rural … is it a new moon tonight?” His scowl deepened, and she could tell he was trying to remember where Earth was in its moon cycle. “That doesn’t seem right. Must be really overcast.”
“Captain? It’s … it isn’t dark. I can see just fine.”
He frowned in confusion and, after a moment, worry. His jaw flexed. “Please tell me you’re practicing your sarcasm.”
“My sarcasm? Why would I do that?”
Shaking his head, he squeezed his eyes tight together. Opened them again. Blinked rapidly.
Cursed.
Pressing her lips, Cress held her fingers in front of him. Waved them back and forth. There was no reaction.