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Jerrok helps me back to bed, and hesitates. "Do you want to shower? Eat?"
I shake my head, placing my bandaged hands carefully over the blankets. "Where's Sleipnir?"
"I closed him in the terrarium while I was taking care of you. I didn't want him mauling me if you cried out in pain."
Smart. The carinoux loves me, but I'm not sure if he'd understand that Jerrok wasn't the one that hurt my hands. "Will you make sure he's fed?"
"No, I thought I'd starve him to punish you for hurting yourself." It sounds more like a tease than anything, and when he tucks the blankets higher around me, I can't help but smile. "What?" he asks.
"I'm keeping you from your work, aren't I?"
He shrugs. "There's no time limit on scrap. It'll get done when it gets done. How are you feeling?" He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair off my forehead and then jerks back, as if he's done something forbidden.
"I hurt. And I'm tired." I fight back a yawn. "Is that the medicine making me sleepy?"
"Yeah. When you're healing, it's best just to sleep."
"I'm hogging your bed," I point out with another yawn. "How are you going to sleep?"
He hesitates, his gaze flicking over me. "I…slept next to you last night. Just so I could be nearby in case you needed anything. Is that okay?"
I nod, my eyes drifting closed. "I slept good," I tell him. "I hope you did, too."
"I slept great," he says softly as I drift off once more.* * *I doze off and on all day. Whenever I wake up, Jerrok is there, giving me water to drink, or making me eat a cup of noodles. I get another dose of his medicine-alcohol combo at bedtime and it knocks me right out. I'm only vaguely aware of a big body sleeping curled up against me. It sets off a ping of alarm at first—am I trapped in bed with my owner again?—but when I reach out and find nothing on the other side of me, I relax. Just one person in bed. Just Jerrok. I roll over, my arms tucked against my front and go back to sleep, snuggling against his chest.
I wake up with a metal component pressing against my cheek. It's part of the prosthetic where it attaches to his arm, I recall, and I actually like the sensation because it reminds me that this is Jerrok and not a praxiian. I keep my eyes closed, curled up against him. I know the sensation can't last, but I love being tended to, being cared for. I didn't realize I was so hungry for it. All this time I've wanted to be independent, to learn how to take care of myself, and the moment a stranger shows me a bit of kindness, I fall apart.
No, I correct myself. Not a stranger. Just Jerrok…my friend.
My friend doesn't care that I'm naked and pressed against him in bed. All he cares about is that I feel safe and secure. God, I wish every guy was like this. I let out a contented little sigh, wanting to stay here forever.
An ear-splitting screech reverberates through the halls of the station.
I jerk, lifting my head.
"That would be your pet," Jerrok murmurs.
"He misses me," I say, sitting up. I examine my hands, as if I can somehow peer through the thick bandages and see how they're looking. They don't throb as much today, which is an improvement. "Maybe we should let him out?"
Jerrok hesitates, and then nods. "If he starts chewing on me, you'll have to pull him off." He gets to his feet, tucks the blankets carefully around me, and then heads down the hall, toward the terrarium. I watch him go, and I can't help but notice that he's wearing his pants—his trou, they call it—in bed. Of course he is—just because I'm naked doesn't mean he's going to be. I also notice that his back is incredibly strong, his muscles flexing…and that he's got scars everywhere.
Poor Jerrok. Life has not been kind to him.
He returns a few moments later, Sleipnir two paces ahead of him. The carinoux has an absolutely indignant look on his face as he moves to my side, sniffing me all over before thumping down into bed next to me and putting his head in my lap. I want to rub his ears, but the bandage-mitts on my hands won't allow it, so I just coo sweet things to my pet and hope he realizes how much I love him.
Jerrok gives the carinoux a sour look and moves to the end of the workstation where he sets up the makeshift stove every night. "You want noodles? Hungry?"
Just like that, he's taking care of me again, and I want to eat it up with a spoon. A girl could get used to this. "Ravenous."
