At first Sarah thought Nyxant had fallen over from exhaustion. That would have been bad, but on a scale of one to ten, it only rated a two and a half. But when she rolled to her side to get a good look at him, she saw that his face had lost a lot of color, fading from a magnificent deep purple to lilac.

That looked more like a seven.

She crawled over to him, the action much less painful than walking, and tried checking for a pulse. Only as her fingers hovered over his neck did she realize that he might have a completely different circulatory system than she did.

The moment of hesitation cost her. Nyxant’s hand clamped around her wrist and his eyes popped open, a demon lurking behind his irises. He snarled and growled, but when his eyes met hers, the monster bled out of them and his grip relaxed, though he didn’t let her go.

“Men have died for less, cavria.” The words were a threat, but the way he said that last word sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine. She wondered what cavria meant. If her translator hadn’t interpreted it, it meant there wasn’t a simple definition in English.

"You kill people who are trying to make sure you're alive? You sure are a bag of fun." She pulled her hand back and he let her go. She might have been crouched over him, but there was a coiled power inside Nyxant that made her think that if he wanted her to stay still, he could make her. She spied darkly bruised skin under a tear in his shirt, but sensed that he would not like her to touch him. Not yet.

"Life is full of danger," was his response.

"No shit." Sarah rolled back over to sit beside him. She pushed up her pant leg all the way to her knee to see the damage that the tentacle had done to her. It wasn’t pretty. A dark mark snaked up, the skin bruised and even more purple than Nyxant’s. No wonder walking had been so tough. She looked from her ankle to the alien beside her. "Thank you for saving my life," she said, suddenly serious. Seeing the injury hit home just how much danger she’d been in.

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes deep with something dark that she could not describe. Another moment passed between them before he said, "You are the only other person here. If you die, I'll go mad for want of company."

The way he said want did things to her. Things that she couldn’t do with a bum leg and an injured man. But now there was something more than simple lust. If he’d propositioned her that morning, she would have slept with him. He was beyond hot and she’d had her eye on him for weeks.

Now things had changed. He’d saved her life, and she was beginning to spot a reservoir of something hidden beneath his warrior exterior. She wanted—needed—to learn more about this man. She could feel it in her bones.

But to do that, she’d need to ensure that he made it through the night. The medkits were back by the rest of the supplies. She could see the shape of their tents near the water, and if she could walk, she’d be there and back in under a minute. But her ankle throbbed, and walking was out of the question.

Crawling wasn’t.

It took a little experimenting, and her knees were not going to thank her, but Sarah was able to get herself over to the supply chest and grab one of the simple medkits that had been included in their provisions. She slung the strap over her shoulders and let it fall on her back while she crawled back toward Nyxant.

He lay flat on his back with his head angled to the side so he could watch her move, a laughing smile lighting up his face.

"What?" Sarah knew she didn’t look sophisticated, but she’d made it work.

Nyxant didn’t stop grinning. "You look—it amuses me."

Under other circumstances she might have been offended. She slid the kit around and held it up toward him and said, "Keep laughing at me and I'll use this medkit on myself and let you suffer."

That got a true laugh out of him. It came from deep within his chest, surprising a loud burst of air out of his lungs. And then he was clutching his side and gasping, the mirth a wounding blow.

"That monster didn't do this to you." It had been so focused on her that he’d barely needed to fight it off.

Nyxant sucked in shallow breaths as she used a knife in the kit to cut away the remains of his shirt. "No, I'm afraid that was our rough landing," he said.

Things were starting to make sense. She’d suspected that he may have been injured, but not this badly. "And is that why you didn't want to traipse through the jungle?"

“Predominantly, yes,” he conceded.

“And you couldn't have just said you had broken ribs?” She would have never fought to leave if he needed medical treatment. She pulled out a container of healing solution. It was a bright blue salve which healed non-life-threatening injuries in most carbon-based species. On Earth, it was also worth ten times its weight in gold.

“They were merely bruised at that point,” he explained.

Nyxant hissed as she rubbed the cool liquid against his injured skin. She could feel a bump on his side where his ribs should have been smooth and covered with muscle. It took several minutes and all of the solution, but the nasty bruise was covered with the thick blue goo.

“Nyxant…” Her fingertips rested on his rippled muscles. His skin was so warm and soft under the heat of the sun.

Nyxant reached up and cupped her cheek, tilting her face toward his. “I like the sound of that name on your lips,” he said.

Those blue eyes of his were dangerous. Sarah could feel herself falling into them as she leaned forward. She wouldn’t need to move much to taste him.

But she pulled back. "You should be all good in half an hour,” she said. She looked down at the small tub, hoping that there was a little scoop left for her to use on her leg. But she was out of luck. His chest was far too broad for her own good, in more ways than one.

She looked back over her shoulder. It was a trick of the light, but their campsite looked like it had moved a kilometer or two down the beach. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the crawl.

Nyxant stopped her with a hand on her arm. ”Hold still, cavria,” he insisted.  “Once my wounds have set, let me tend to yours." He paused. “Unless the pain is too bad. I would not have you suffer merely so I could have the pleasure of tending to you.”

Tending her would give him pleasure? If it was an excuse to get his hands on her, she’d wait for hours. “It's not that bad if I don't move.” As she settled back down next to him, she knew she almost wasn’t lying. It hurt, but she could manage.

She expected him to let go of her wrist, but he slid his hand down until their fingers were entwined. His thumb circled lazily against her skin. “I have not had so much fun in quite some time,” he admitted.

“I'm glad my near death experience was enjoyable for someone.” The wry words just slipped out.

He tried to explain. “Following you—“

She interrupted, "Stalking, you mean?" She was laughing as she accused him, their conversation causing her pain to fade into the background of her thoughts.

“Stalking you, yes.” He agreed and laughed a little. “On my home planet, there is a tradition.”

“Isn't there always?”

He laughed again and Sarah got the idea that it wasn’t something he got to do all that often when he wasn’t stranded on a deserted planet. Then his smile faded and he said, “Never mind.”

“No! I want to hear.” She wanted him to laugh again, and the rumbly sound of his voice was the perfect distraction from the throbbing pain crawling up her leg.

“There is a tradition. A courtship tradition,” he clarified. “When a couple intends to seriously consider a partnership, they will play a courtship game. One will journey into the least hospitable terrain possible, and the other goes on the hunt.” He looked deep into her eyes as he described it, inviting her to imagine what that game would be like with him. “When the first is caught, they can choose to accept the affections of their pursuer.”

Affections? There was only one thing that could mean. “Sounds kind of… cavemanny.” She wanted to ask if the guy had to carry around a huge club to knock out the competition. But when she imagined Nyxant chasing after her, intent on seduction, she could understand the appeal.

“Cave…manny?” He didn’t quite get the pronunciation right and she realized that the translator had failed.

“Um, barbaric?” she substituted.

He laughed again, the sound coming more easily the more he did it. “I promise, it is mostly an excuse for some alone time. Courtship is a tedious process.” He rolled toward her and rose above her, holding himself over her like a lover. “I do wonder if you would make the game worth it. If you knew you were playing.”

Was he talking about the chase? Or courtship in general? Sarah wanted to ask, but an insidious thought niggled at her. Had he played that game before? If anything happened between them, would she just be another conquest? The words died in her throat before she could gather the courage to ask.

He wiped her hair out of her eyes and stood, loping over to their gear in easy strides as if his ribs hadn’t been broken only moments before. When he got to his tent, he stripped off the tattered remains of his shirt, but he didn’t bother to cover himself back up. He picked up another medkit and brought it back to her.

Sarah’s mouth watered. The goo had seeped into his skin while it healed, leaving his chest shining and the same rich purple of the rest of him. God, he was magnificent.

He knelt at her feet and studied her leg, brows drawn down in contemplation. “I don’t think you’re broken,” he said.

“That’s an entirely different conversation,” she joked. One no magic healing goo could fix.

He looked up from her injury, expression curious. But he didn’t ask the question. “This is going to hurt,” he warned.

She nodded. Of course it would. Everything came with its price.