Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I touch his good shoulder gently, studying him. "Are you okay? Do you…need to count?" I remember the nightmares he had, where he had to count aloud over and over again to keep himself strong. I'll hold his hand and count with him if he needs it. I just have to make sure he's okay.
He gives me a wry smile, his face bloodied. "Knowing you're all right makes me able to handle this."
I bite my lip, nodding. The question I've been afraid to ask is on my lips. "Sleipnir…"
"Drugged." When my shoulders slump with relief, he continues. "They won't harm him, Sophie. He's more valuable alive and unharmed than dead. You are, too." He gives me a protective look. "No matter what happens, you'll be safe."
My throat feels tight. I cup his cheek. "What about you?"
"I'm going to kill those keffing bastards." He grins, his lips tinged with blood. "Or go down trying."
Good. I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling bloodthirsty and full of rage. "What can I do to help? Should I distract them? Feign sickness? What?" I gesture at the comm panel in the corner of the room. "Can we call the Jabberwock—"
He shakes his head. "Comms will be down. That's the first thing any pirate hits. Hopefully the Jabberwock will notice when our flight path changes. We just have to survive that long."
"Got it."
Jerrok gives me a stern look. "As for what you can do to help—let me handle it. I have a plan, and it'll work better if I'm not distracted by worrying about you."
I don't know if I like that. I dab at a bit of blood at the corner of his mouth and frown at him. "I can take care of myself. Let me help you."
"I know you can. I'm not saying that to be dismissive. But worrying about you distracts me and I need to focus." Jerrok touches the auto-fastener at his throat and then shrugs his tunic off, detaching it from the pants of his uniform. He winces as he pulls it off, and the creak of his arm is louder than ever, sending a note of concern through me.
I help him finish peeling his tunic off, and then, to my surprise, he pulls it around my shoulders.
"For you," he says. "Are you all right?"
My eyes burn as I nod, fighting back tears. I'm not the one they're trampling on, but I can tell that all of his concern is for me. No one's ever cared so much, and it just makes my heart swell with even more love. I want to kiss him, but his lip is split and bruised, so I just push my arms through the sleeves and tuck the shirt around my body. "When we get out of this, I'm giving you the messiest, sloppiest, longest blow job ever."
"If you like." He chuckles, leaning back against the wall as if fatigued. He closes his eyes and he looks so exhausted that it worries me. "Just so you know…whatever happens in the next while, I don't want you to panic." Jerrok's voice drops to a whisper. "No matter how I act."
"How are you going to act?"
"Like I'm dying."
I suck in a breath, my stomach clenching in distress. "O-okay." I hope that was the reason he was limping when he came in. I hope. But then I remember the agonized creak of his arm just a moment ago and I'm worried. "Give me a signal word. If you're in danger and no longer pretending, use the signal word and I'll jump in and help."
Jerrok frowns at me, opening his eyes to glare in my direction. "I'm not gonna do that."
I ignore his protest, drumming my fingers on my thigh as I think. "What about the word 'terrarium'? If you say that, I know that you need my help. Or 'Outlander,' but I'm not entirely sure how you'll be able to work that into a conversation."
"Sophie—" He reaches for me.
The man is not a great listener, but then again, neither am I. I ignore his attempts to quiet me, shaking my head. "I know I don't have a gun, and I'm not very strong, but I'm a great ankle biter and like you said, they want me alive—"
"Sophie, no. I'm not going to use a code word." Jerrok's expression is determined. "You're mine to protect, and that's what I'm going to do."
"Well, what about you being mine?" I say, equally determined. "Maybe I want to protect you, too."
His smile is achingly sweet, even as he rubs at his shoulder. It's bruised, the skin mottled around his prosthetic, and as I watch, he digs his fingers into the crude wiring coming from his skin, as if pressure will somehow stop the pain that's surely going up and down his arm. "I know you do. That's why I love you…and that's why I'm going to keep you safe. You trust me, right?"