To his intense relief, her vivid blue eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him blearily.
“Who’re you?” she slurred and began to shiver. “And why’s it so cold in here?”
“It’s me, Dragon,” Dragon said. “Look, you passed out during the re-entry and landing. Are you all right?”
“Think so.” She put a hand to her head. “Hurts, though. Like a migraine.” She shivered again. “And so cold.”
That was probably because one of the crew had already popped the door open and a gust of chilly, dry air was circulating through the cabin. It felt refreshing to Dragon, but the little female was shivering even harder.
“Come on—let’s get you home,” he murmured and began unbuckling her harness.
She let him, not trying to interfere or help in any way. In fact, she still seemed only halfway conscious to Dragon, which worried him. Had some kind of permanent harm been done to her? Would she be okay? How could he help her?
Well, right now what he needed to do was get her home, he decided. He could worry about everything else once she was safely locked in his private rooms.
“Looks like the little female you stole from me isn’t doing too well.”
It was Zerlix again, smirking as he leaned over the limp form of the little feela.
“Get away from her,” Dragon growled, glaring at the other male. “The last thing I need is interference from you. I just need to get her back to the compound.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Zerlix snapped. Raising his voice, he called, “Anyone who gives Dragon and the female he stole from me a ride back to the family compound can forget about his cut of the loot for a solar month!”
There was silence and some uneasy glances thrown in Dragon’s direction, but nobody spoke up to object. His heart fisted in his chest as he realized that any chance he had of getting a ride home with one of the crew had just been blown to smoke. The crew of Saurians feared him—his reputation with a blade alone was enough to strike fear in their scaly hearts. But Zerlix was the leader of the crew and a vindictive son of a bitch. If he said he would withhold the crew’s pay, he would do it.
Of course, Dragon could threaten one of the crew and make them give him a ride—he had no doubt he could make any one of them comply. But then that male would be stuck between a boulder and a cave wall, as the Saurian saying went. Should he risk losing his pay to please his boss, or risk bodily harm from the most feared enforcer in the Clan?
It wasn’t fair to put anyone in that position, Dragon thought. He would just have to carry the little feela home on his own. Carefully, he lifted her into his arms and cradled her against his chest.
She had drawn her arms and legs up inside the thin silk of his shirt, which she was still wearing, but her cheeks and the tip of her tiny, cute nose had already turned bright red with cold. The family compound was only a few blocks away, but would she make it?
Dragon didn’t know. As he watched Zerlix saunter out of the spaceship, throwing a satisfied smirk over one scaly shoulder, he suddenly thought that he had never hated anyone more.
9
Somebody was carrying her through the city in winter—a winter she was not dressed for. Bobbi shivered and cuddled closer to the single heat source—a hard, warm wall that was pressing against the left side of her body. But as warm as the wall was, it couldn’t dispel the chill from the icy wind that was cutting through the thin, inadequate clothing she was wearing. Her shivering grew worse and she was aware that her toes and fingers felt numb. To add to her misery, her head ached fiercely.
“Cold,” she moaned. “So…cold…”
“Hang on, feela,” a deep, rumbling voice said in her ear. The words seemed to vibrate her entire body. “Hang on—we’re almost home.”
Home? What home? Where am I? she wondered woozily.
There were no answers forthcoming and she was beginning to feel sleepy despite the intense cold—or maybe because of it. Hadn’t she read somewhere that you should never go to sleep in the snow because you might not wake up once hypothermia set in?
It seemed like a true thought, but even the imminent danger she was in couldn’t break the spell the cold had on her. She was drifting…drifting…drifting away.
“Hang on,” the deep voice said again but this time it sounded like a voice in a dream—or like someone calling to her from very far away.
Bobbi tried to answer but couldn’t—her mouth felt too heavy to move just as her eyelids were too heavy to open. Later, she would answer the voice later…