“You’re awake.”Cyra forced herself to smile, entering Dez’s recovery room. He was ashy gray and his eyes were dull. Tube and wires had him so trussed up, she wasn’t sure where to focus. Not on his missing hand. Tears pricked her eyes, but he shouldn’t have to see her crying. “How are you feeling?”
“They are taking good care of me. I’ll be fine.” There was hardening in his jaw. “Why are you still here?”
Cyra stepped back, shocked by his tone. Dez had never spoken to her so coldly. “I…you…I wanted to thank you for saving the ship.”
“No one was harmed? The ship is intact?” His eyes were almost as lifeless as in her nightmare.
“You were harmed.” She ached to touch him, to run her hand along his bald head, to offer some kind of comfort, but she feared he would shut her out, exactly like she had done the night before they landed. Why had she let her emotions keep them apart when it was their last chance to be together? She would regret that forever.
“My injuries are not your concern any longer. You have completed your contract. And you have other deliveries to make.”
She crossed her arms to keep from reaching for him. “What about when I next go to Din’Gale? What am I supposed to tell your family?”
“Tell them I found a good position and don’t you dare tell them I’m injured.”
Cyra glanced at where his hand used to be. There was no way she was that good a liar.
“Did you get a delivery contract from…what’s his name?” Dez asked.
“Derrain?”
Dez nodded with a tiny movement. How could he ask her that? How could he talk about business as if he wasn’t nearly killed? As if this wasn’t the last time she might see him alive? Her heart ripped in her chest as if it was trying to free itself from her body so it wouldn’t have to suffer this loss.
“I don’t care about a contract. I care about you.”
“I was only ever a contract. An item to be delivered. It’s done. You should go.”
“But—”
“Go, Captain. See to your crew and your contracts. I need to rest, if I’m going to heal.” Dez turned his head and closed his eyes.
She didn’t move, staring at the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d spent all that time denying it, and in that moment she realized how stupid she’d been, how much time she’d wasted.
“Mr. Cuocua? I’m here to change your bandage.” The med tech wheeled in a cart of supplies.
“Leave.” Dez glared at her. “I don’t want you here.” He turned back to the tech, ignoring her.
She stumbled for the door, grateful he wouldn’t see the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she left the room.
A few meters down the hall, two uniformed medics conferred over a portable comm screen. “Patient in room six isn’t healing as expected.”
“Isn’t he Din’Galian?” The second tech asked, tapping her finger against the screen.
Cyra shifted closer.
“That’s odd. We’re seeing an elevated white count. Sure sign of infection. Are you sure he’s unmated? Check his contract.”
She scrolled again. “Broker’s report states unmated. He should be halfway to healed, not getting worse.”
“Let’s run a full endocrine panel.”
Cyra walked briskly past them as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping. Unmated. Infection. Getting worse. The eavesdropped words ricocheted through her brain, tearing her apart. Dez was dying because of her and he didn’t want her anymore. She didn’t feel the cold as she exited the building and took the borrowed vehicle back toThe Treasure.
“Cyr?” Veda met Cyra at the entrance to the cargo bay.
“Have the crates been loaded?”
Veda’s hands went to her hips. “Did you see Dez? Did you speak to him.”
