by Joy Spraycar
The door flew open, and Max rushed to her side. “It is all right, I am here.”
“My head. Something’s wrong with the world. It slid away from me.”
“I know, love. You have not fully healed yet.”
She opened her eyes and reached for him. “How long will it be?”
Concern etched on his face, he rested a palm against her cheek. “I do not know. I truly expected it before now. I am very sorry, but we must leave right away. Those who pursue us are but a day away. With your condition, we will be unable to move very fast. We cannot take the chance they will catch up to us. You will have to allow me to carry you.”
She couldn’t ask him to carry her. He’d already done that during the skunk incident. She couldn’t expect him to shoulder all the supplies and her besides. He had already done more than he should have on her behalf. Taking a deep breath, she summoned every ounce of strength and pushed him away.
“No, I’ll walk.” She fought with her rock-like head and managed to raise it from its cradle. Gritting her teeth, she sat and then shoved against the bed with all her might, managing to straighten her back. There! I’ve done it.
The floor slowly spun off to the left, and Zalphia stepped to the right, trying desperately to remain vertical in this tipsy world. That simple action caused the floor’s speed to increase, and she shuffled quickly with both feet, trying to keep pace. Her arms windmilled frantically as balance would be the key to remain standing. Then she grabbed for something, anything to help her counter the quickness with which the floor raced toward her head. Nothing availed itself to her grip, and she felt the battle being lost.
Max’s hands slipped around her waist as her arms pummeled his face, and she closed her eyes. The sensation of falling ceased, and she slumped against him.
“Do not try that again,” he said.
She opened one eye and met his determined look.
“I will take care of you. You are no longer required to make your own way. I am here to watch over and protect you. Do you understand?”
She nodded, and the world spun again. “Ugh.” She closed her eyes and waited for the spinning to stop. “Son-of-a –.”
His fingers covered her lips. “Please, no cursing.”
“That’s not cussing. It’s describing the way I feel.”
She felt more than heard his chuckle. “Whatever you say. But from now on, please refrain from that phrase. I do not like it.”
“Okay.” One eyebrow lifted. “Sorry I hurt your ears.” Even as the sarcasm left her lips, she felt the pain she inflicted on him deep within her own chest.
“Max?” She opened her eyes and laid a hand against his cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. I’ll watch my language.”
He merely nodded and laid her back down. “Lie still while I gather our provisions. I wish you had time to eat something, but we must hurry.”
Everything spinning made her stomach uneasy, and the mention of food caused a rolling deep inside. “Oh.” Her tongue flicked out, and she pulled it back in. “I’m not sure eating would be a good thing right now.”
He hurried back to her. “Are you all right?”
“Maybe some water.”
He raised a skin pouch to her mouth, and cool water dribbled down her throat. Just as she felt she might get a good gulp, he took it away. “Not too much. It will make your stomach worse.”
Easy for him to say. Her tongue almost filled her mouth with its excessive bulk. Even her cheeks felt twice their normal size. Fire scalded her throat, and the water barely began to grab at the licking flames. Not only that, but the pounding of dehydration thrummed inside her head like distant thunder during a storm. No, she needed more of the soothing wetness to alleviate her symptoms.
“Just a couple more swallows?” she begged.
“Fine, but just a bit.”
The pouch again touched her lips, and she sipped slowly.
“That’s enough.” Max withdrew the water. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The simple generosity in his eyes, mixed with everything her body was enduring, tightened her chest and pooled tears at the corner of her eyes. Was it the way she felt or the concern and pain she saw mirrored in his gaze that garnered this reaction? She had no idea, but a tear slid toward her hairline.
Max scooped her into his arms. “It will be all right. I am here. This surgery has cost you greatly.”
“Surgery?”
“Me cutting the chip from your brain. Your emotions were tempered by it. Now they are free and flowing. I suspect you will feel more than you ever have before. It will take some getting used to.”
The mere mention of emotions sent her back to the early days of Glad training. Platy had constantly reminded her that emotion was bad. Smiling would bring punishment. But tears? Tears were the ultimate sign of weakness. Zalphia had been schooled, tortured, and trained until no matter what they inflicted upon her, nothing showed on her face.
Had she not learned to suppress it all by herself? Could it be that no matter what they did, she hadn’t been good enough, and Platy stooped to outside means to drive emotion from her Glad? If there had been a chip, why did she still feel guilty each time she killed a training partner or another Glad? Wouldn’t that be impossible? She learned to stuff those emotions in the place inside her mind where they wouldn’t affect her. If Platy resorted to using a chip, how come the guilt remained?
As Zalphia recalled all she had been put through to become the fighter she was, she hit a wall as hard as rock, and something inside shattered. Her chest burned, matching the sensation in her throat. It was true. She hadn’t been able to stifle emotion on her own.
Swallowing hard, she fought the squeezing in her lungs and blinked at the tears swimming in her eyes. Noooo. She was stronger than this. One choked gasp, and the sorrow let loose. Tears streamed down her face, and great sobs shook not only her frame, but her thoughts as well.
She was weak. Weak as those who she’d seen display this sort of behavior in training. She hadn’t managed it all on her own. Platy chipped her to eliminate emotion.
Max slid her onto his lap, rocked back and forth, and sang softly in her ear. “Hush, now, my darling. Darling, don’t you cry. I will hold you until night descends and the angels fly by. When morning wakes us, we will be close to home. Then you will see, my darling. I never left you alone.”
The melody pulled her from studying her weakness, and the words sent her back to the strange tree with the drooping branches. Peace flowed from his mind into hers. Like a breeze during a hot summer night, it cooled her skin and sent the pain tumbling into the distance. Max continued singing, and snippets from a time she couldn’t quite remember flashed across her mind.
She set a succulent meal on the table. “Dinner’s ready.”
Max appeared and pressed a kiss to her cheek. A small boy, the spitting image of his father, dashed in and slid to a stop but still crashed into the chair.
“Slow down,” Max scolded. “Now apologize to your mother.”
“Sorry, Mother.”
Zalphia smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair.
Coming back to the present, Zalphia wondered if she and Max had been together on a different planet. “Did we have children?” she asked. “In our other life, I mean.”
The singing stopped, and a drop of moisture landed on her cheek. Leaning back, she looked into his face. She’d never seen him look vulnerable or sad, but if mental pain affected him in the arena, this was more intense than that. “What happened? Tell me why you’re sad.”
He slid her to a sitting position so they could see each other’s faces. “This is difficult to explain.”
With one finger, she wiped a second tear from his cheek. The side of his mouth that wouldn’t turn up made a deeper line. His shoulders slumped, and defeat marked his demeanor.
“Try.” Whatever bothered him was connected to a powerful emotion, one which Zalphia could almost feel lurki
ng deep inside herself. Could she feel this, too? Was the outward signs of his pain causing her pain also? She didn’t know, but she had to find out. She would never allow anyone to hurt him. Although, at the moment, she would be helpless to stop them.
“It is complicated, my love. There is so much for you to remember. And I do not believe now is the time to discuss this.”
“I need to know. Max, you’re so strong, so capable. What could bring tears to those eyes?”
He took a ragged breath.
“Please, I need to know. Did we have children?”
He nodded.
“What happened to them?” She could tell by the look on his face it wasn’t good.
He shook his head. “Not now. You must heal, and we must be on our way. We will discuss this another time.” The sadness lifted, and he tenderly gazed at her face.
This was the man she knew. The gentle giant who cared more about her than anything. The one who entered the Glad arena specifically to rescue her. A bubbling feeling from deep inside rose and drove her fingers to his face. She ran her thumb through the poky hair along his cheek then traced their curls down to his jaw, stroking the prominent bone there. She couldn’t help it. She reached for his neck and pulled him close. His breath heated her skin and need stirred deep within.
“Oh, Max.”
He caressed her neck with one finger and then slid his hand down her back. “I want it, too. But you are not well, and we must flee from this place.”
What was it? Pulling back, she gazed into his face. Would he show her the thing which eluded her, yet filled her with a strange desire? She hoped so.
He took her face in his hands and studied her for a moment. His eyes intense and bluer, if that were possible, than she had ever seen them. His tongue moistened his bottom lip, then he raked his teeth across it. Taking a ragged breath, he closed his eyes. The heat of his quivering breath sent tingles up her spine, and when his lips touched hers, a shudder shook her.
She slid her arms around his neck, and he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened and caused a churning inside. She’d felt this before, very long ago. Even before her mother and the Glads. Her tongue took a life of its own and reached for his. Weaving his fingers into her hair, he pulled her closer as his tongue rolled over hers, tantalizing and sparking excitement like she’d never known. As suddenly as it began, he stopped and pushed her from him.
The mere act of him pulling away seemed to rip her in two, wrenched her heart, and burned at her eyes.
His eyes grew round, and he turned his face toward the opposite wall. “No! We cannot do this. Not now. Not here.”
Fear gripped her, and she clung desperately to his neck.
He turned back to her, his face clearly showing that he, too, felt the same turmoil. “I am not leaving you, Zalphia. It will be all right. We must run from the trackers and leave this place.”
“I know,” she said, her voice shaking.
He laid his forehead against hers. The mere touch of his skin on hers calmed her. The panic of just a moment before fled as his mind pushed peace into hers. Her fluttering heart slowed.
“I promise. We will be one as soon as possible.”
She sighed against the curve of his neck, fighting the urge to hold tighter.
“It is the emotions ruling you. Lie down while I finish gathering our things.”
He lowered her back to her resting place and busied himself packing their supplies. She watched as he moved around, awed by his mere presence. If the chip had been stifling her memories of him and squelching her emotions, well then... something boiled fierce and ominous deep inside.
“It is called anger.”
“What?”
Max turned to face her. “That feeling deep inside, it is called anger. I know it well. I felt it often when I found out what they did to you. I feel it more now than ever. They hurt you, Zalphia. Kept you from me in more ways than just physically. If we had not killed Platy back at the arena, I would have been tempted to return and pull her limb from limb. When I cut that chip out...” He sighed. “Let us just say that it was almost more than I could bear. I thought you were lost to me, but I had to try.”
“I’ll be fine. But, Max. I don’t know how to deal with everything inside.”
He strode to the bed and brushed the hair from her face. “Sleep. It will help you heal. Let me worry about the rest.” He laid a hand on her cheek.
The effect he caused with those few words and his simple touch was all she needed. Her eyes slid closed, and the strange melody he’d sung before lured her deeper down until she lay in their favorite spot. His voice became the stream, and his hand the warmth of the sun.
And she slept.
CHAPTER 8
The velvety inside of the bear hide nestled gently against Zalphia’s skin, and she realized that once again, she lay naked inside it. The sticky sweat that covered her skin the last couple of times she awoke was gone. Dampness nestled close to her head. Yes, her hair, too, had been washed. Off to her left, a fire burned, shedding light on a framework of sticks close to her feet which held the garments Max fashioned for her.
Max sat on a log, barring the way between her and the warmth of the dancing flames, his attention taken by a small pot sitting amidst the stones at the base of the blaze. The bubbling mixture sent delicious smells wafting through the air as he stirred it with a stick. The aroma tantalized her nose and called to her foggy brain. She marveled that no matter where she awoke to find them, her every need had been tended to. Without thinking, she sat up.
The heavy feeling in her head had disappeared, and reaching up, she found the ridge that marked where Max entered to remove the chip had disappeared. Sliding the bearskin away, she stood, amazed that the world seemed to stay in place. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Crisp air filled with the fragrance of pine tickled her nostrils. Gone was the pain of the chip. Gone was the rolling of her stomach. She was reborn, or at least it seemed so.
She blinked several times then looked up. Stars like a million sparkling grains of sand dotted the inky blackness overhead. For all the years she’d slept in a Glad cage, she had never seen the sky look so bright. Even with the mere sliver of the moon, the light across the dirt seemed more luminous than any other night she could remember.
Max must have been very intent on what he was doing, because he hadn’t spoken or acknowledged that she now stood behind him. She cocked her head to one side. Strange. He always seemed to know the moment she awoke.
She tiptoed up behind him and threw her arms around his shoulders.
“Oh!” He dropped the stick he’d been using to mix the contents of the pot and turned. “You’re awake. How did I not sense you?”
She shrugged. “I was just wondering the same thing.”
“I see.” His lip turned up. “You have become you again.”
She joined him on the log while he picked up the stick, wiped it off on his covering, and began stirring again.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“That you are you again?”
“Yeah.”
“You see, while your mind was controlled by the chip, your emotions were kept in check. Therefore, only the practical side of your consciousness was available. Now you see things as you never saw them before.” He looked around then glanced up. “Like... well, like the sky. Am I right?”
“Exactly.” She gazed once again at the brilliant specks dotting the sky. “It’s more beautiful than I’ve ever seen it.”
“But that is just it. You have never really seen it before. Or rather, you were not able to react to it before. I am used to looking for the practical side of you.” He turned to her, the pot forgotten.
The sparkle in his eyes sent shivers up her spine. Even her insides twisted at his visual caress.
“Now you are impractical, emotional...” He turned back to the pot and cleared his throat. “Back to my perfect Zalphia.”
She shook her head. �
�I’m far from perfect.”
He glanced back at her, his blue eyes a shade darker than they had been just a moment before. “No.” He traced the line of her face with the back of his fingers. “You are exactly as I would have you.”
Inside, her stomach flipped. A strange feeling in her private parts reacted to the husky tone of his voice and the gentle stroke on her cheek. She was perfect in his eyes. Warmth emanated from him like the aroma of the bubbling substance in the pot.
Her stomach growled.
A quick breath shook his frame, and his eyes opened wide. He jerked his fingers away and turned back to his pot. With one hand, he gestured toward the sticks. “Your clothing should be dry. Please, put them on.”
She studied him for a moment. Why did the mere touch of his fingers seem to cause everything inside her to quake? She shook her head, took the clothes from the pole by the fire, and slipped into them then turned to face him. “Max?”
“What?” he asked, his attention still focused on the pot’s simmering contents.
She placed a hand on the side of his face. The hairs poked her palm as she turned his head to hers.
He met her gaze. “You must be hungry. I bet you do not even remember the last time you ate something, do you?”
She studied his eyes while shaking her head. “No. But right now, there’s something else I need... something more than my stomach growling for food. Tell me what it is that I want.”
He threaded his stick through the handle of the pot and pulled it from the fire then turned to face her. “What does it feel like?”
“Don’t know how to describe it.” She sank down beside him on the log. “When you look at me like that, my stomach forgets about food and flip-flops about like it’s dying.” She placed a hand on her chest. “My heart speeds up.”
“As does mine.”