Page 80 of Nansar
Thump... thump... thump...
But now each beat came weaker than the last. Slower. Like a clock winding down.
"No, no, no—stay with me!" Hysteria clawed at my throat, threatening to drag me under. "Nansar, you don't get to do this. You don't get to save me just to leave me. You don't—"
Thump... thump...
The silence between beats stretched. Lengthened. My own heart hammered against my ribs in frantic counterpoint, as if trying to beat loud enough for both of us.
"Please." The word dissolved into a sob. Tears blurred my vision, hot and stinging, before spilling down my cheeks to splash onto his chest. They mixed with the blood—his life and my grief becoming one. "Please don't leave me. Not now. Not like this. I can't—I can't do this without you."
Thump...
The pause yawned wide and terrible. I couldn't tell anymore if what I felt beneath my palm was real or just my own desperate pulse echoing back at me, my mind conjuring phantom rhythms because the alternative was unthinkable.
His eyes found mine. For one precious moment, they cleared—the fog lifting to reveal something so raw and honest it stole what little breath I had left. Regret. Longing. Something that reflected the love in my own gaze.
"My horns... the itching means..." His lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "You're my mate. Should have... told you..."
Then his eyes rolled back, whites showing, and his body went completely slack in my arms.
"Nansar!" I shook him, gentle at first, then harder. "Nansar, wake up! Don't you dare—don't you fucking dare—"
"Chloe!" Ahrick materialized beside us, dropping to his knees so hard I heard the impact. His hands moved over Nansar's body, checking the wound, pressing fingers to his throat. When he looked up, his expression made my blood run cold. "It's bad."
"He's not dead." I heard myself say it, but the words sounded hollow. Desperate. "He's not—"
"He's still alive." Ahrick's voice was gentle in a way that made everything worse. "But he won't be for long. Not without help." His eyes met mine, and I saw the truth there—stark and unforgiving. "The only thing that can save him now is a Garoot Healer."
The roar of engines cut through the air, and I glanced up to see a shuttle descending through the canopy.
Hope surged through me, painful and desperate.
The shuttle touched down in the clearing, landing gear crushing the undergrowth. The hatch hissed open, and two figures emerged. The first was humanoid but covered in bluishscales that shimmered in the sunlight. The second male was massive—easily eight feet tall, with skin the color of jade and muscles that looked like they'd been carved from stone.
The green one stepped forward, his eyes scanning the scene. Bodies. Blood. Nansar dying in my arms.
"Chloe Blackwood?" His voice was deep, resonant. "I am Xabat, War Chief of theHistoria. We're here to extract you."
"Do you have a healer?" The words burst from me. "A Garoot Healer?"
Xabat's eyes focused on me while the other male continued surveying the area. "Yes. On the ship. We need to get you—"
"Him." I looked down at Nansar, his blood soaking into my clothes, my hands, my soul. "You need to heal him. Now."
Xabat's gaze shifted to Nansar, and something hardened in his expression. "That's Nansar. Convicted criminal. Prisoner of the Alliance."
"I don't care what he is," I said, my voice rising with desperation and fury. "He saved my life. He's dying. You have to—"
"We're here for you, Miss Blackwood. Not him." Xabat's tone was firm, final. "Nansar is a prisoner. He can't leave this planet. Alliance law is clear."
"Then I'm not leaving either."
"Miss Blackwood—"
"He's my mate!" The words tore from my throat. "I won't leave him here to die."
Xabat's expression didn't change. "I understand this is difficult, but—"
