I considered it, asshole. I still might.
There was something disturbingly gentle about his blue-blue eyes. Almost…innocent. They didn’t look like the eyes of a killer. His eyes should be red or yellow, filled with malice and hatred, not baby-blue and filled with relief.
I’m making assumptions again.Eye color indicated nothing. Infamous serial killer Ted Bundy had had blue eyes.
She tore her gaze away and did a quick visual inspection of the zip ties. Still secure.
Uncertain how to proceed, she sat in the chair.
The chest wound had nearly closed up. At this point, she was only a little bit surprised. “You heal fast.”
“Yes.”
“Pity.”
“You’d like to see me dead.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not the one who shot me. You had the chance to kill me, but you didn’t do it.”
“I still might.”
“If you don’t kill me, what do you intend to do with me?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” She still faced the same conundrum. Kill him now or leave him to die a slow death. She shouldn’t have an issue with either option, but she couldn’t get past her personal moral roadblock.
She’d become a nurse to help people in a meaningful, personal way. She’d never envisioned a patient like him.
She had no problem with the government executing sociopathic serial killers or other irredeemable murderers, but she wouldn’t be able to administer the lethal injection or flip the switch on the electric chair. Maybe that made her hypocritical rather than moral.
“While you decide, could I have a drink of water?”
He had the nerve to ask for something? “Why should I give you anything?”
“It’s up to you.”
Dehydration would kill him faster than hunger. A human could go only three days without water.I could dehydrate him to death.Just her luck, the bastard would linger. As much as she wished him dead and wanted him to suffer, she couldn’t stomach watching him die.
She shifted her gaze to the water jug on the table. “There’s water right there.”
He lifted his gaze to his restrained wrists.
Shit.“I’m not letting you up.” The very notion propelled her out of the chair as if he would lunge for her. He probably was thirsty, but if she untied him, he would kill her. Asking for water might be a ruse. She couldn’t trust him.
She stomped out, angry at herself.Dammit. I didn’t think this through. How am I going to give him food and water? What about when he needs to use the bathroom? All creatures—Earthlings anyway—have to excrete waste in some way.She had no idea what kind of plumbing he had under his gray-green clothing, and damn sure didn’t want to find out.Alien junk. Ugh.
She rubbed her face in frustration.Could I have made the situation worse for myself?She hadn’t factored in the complications. Hadn’t realized by dragging him home she’d been acquiring a prisoner.He was supposed to die!
What am I going to do?She couldn’t risk untying even one hand. He could grab her.
I can bring an alien to water, but I can’t let him drink.
But I can’t keep him NPO.NPO ornil per oswas a Latin medical term that meant“nothing by mouth.”
“Wait…wait…maybe…maybe it’s still here!” She sprinted into the storage room. Rooting around on the shelves, she found the travel mug with a straw she’d used as a teenager to bring drinks into the cave. “This will work.”
Returning to the alien, she filled the mug with water from the jug. “Here.” She held the mug close to his mouth.
