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“What? How?” Oz, the flirtier one, asks, sounding confused.
I turn slowly, already feeling marginally better now that I don’t have them behind me. I didn’t realize how vulnerable that made me feel until right now. “Can I shower alone?” I ask quietly and watch as his eyes widen a fraction. Something about the simple, honest reaction eases me even further.
“Oh shit, I didn’t mean... I just thought you might like to get cleaned up.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I know you have no reason to trust us. Well, okay, maybe a little bit of a reason. We did just save you from a—”
His brother punches him in the arm.
“What? Oh, right.” He blows out a breath before stepping forward slowly. “You’re safe here. Neither of us would ever touch you without permission.”
I frown and tilt my head up at that. He cleverly managed to tell me that they wouldn’t touch me without my consent, not that they didn’t want to touch me at all. Interesting. Not that I’m thinking of going there. I’ve had enough of men to last me a lifetime. I’m actually at that point in my life where I think it might just be safe to get off the ride altogether. But knowing what I look like and how I smell, it’s nice to feel like I’m more than, well, this.
“A shower would be great. Thank you,” I tell him, taking in his earnest expression.
The adrenaline is wearing off now, and I know I’ll crash soon, but the need to wash away that cell overrides everything right now.
“Alright, I’ll show you where everything is and find you something to wear while Zig gets us off the ground. What’s your shoe size?”
“Seven. Why?”
“I think we might have something here that will fit you. I’ll leave them next to the bed for you to try on. Once I have everything ready for you, I’ll head to the cockpit to help Zig.”
My eyes move to Zig. “You’re flying us out?”
He nods before turning and walking away.
“My brother is a man of few words. But more than that, he really wants to get us somewhere safe.”
“I… Okay. I was just surprised. I don’t know why. I um…”
“Relax, Salem. Now let’s see about that shower.”
He gently reaches for me and turns me so he can squeeze past. I stay where I am for a minute, turning toward the cockpit for a second before following Oz.
The aisle of the plane is short, and instead of the seats all facing one way, these face each other with a table between them. There are two chairs and a table on the right, and four chairs and a slightly larger table on the left. At the far end, two more chairs face the cockpit, but down here, there is a door. Oz pushes it open, revealing three more doors: one directly in front of us, one to the left, and one to the right. He opens the one on the left first.
“Shower. It’s tiny, but it has hot water and everything you need to get cleaned up.” He opens the door to his right next. “Toilet.”
I swallow. I can’t say I’ve ever been excited to see a toilet before, but after being forced to use a bucket, I’ll never take the small things for granted again.
Opening the door directly in front of us, he shows me a bedroom. The bed, which is probably king-sized, dominates the whole room; I doubt you can actually walk around it. On the wall next to the door are overhead compartments, and I can see the bed itself has drawers underneath it, but otherwise, what you see is it.
“It’s not much, but it’s comfortable, and you are welcome to use it.”
After sleeping on a stone floor, I’m sure it could be lumpy as heck, and it would still feel like a cloud compared to what I’m used to.
“Thank you,” I say again, even though I’m not sure I’m brave enough to let myself be that vulnerable yet.
“Why don’t you shower, and I’ll leave something on the bed for you to wear. There’s no rush, so take your time.”
I nod before tugging open the door to the shower and locking myself inside. My heart starts galloping, and my chest tightens to the point where I can’t catch a breath. Black spots appear before my eyes. I must make a sound because I can hear Oz calling me, but it sounds like it’s from far away.
I feel the door open behind me, and then I’m pulled against a hard chest. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Deep breaths for me.”
I swear my life has been measured lately by how many deep breaths I’ve forced myself to take. Each inhale feels like shards of glass imbedding themselves in my lungs, but I do it anyway. I do it for the girl who bled out before me yesterday and for each of those who died in the cells beside mine tonight. I breathe in and breathe out for each of them, knowing they’d trade places with me in a heartbeat.
“I’m sorry. I know I stink,” I whisper, pulling back, embarrassed.
He leans down and swipes the tears from my cheeks with his hands. When he leans closer and takes a deep breath, his eyes lock on mine. I cringe, but he just winks and grins.
