My skin feels heated. It tingles under the warmth like a sunburn, and I open my eyes. I cringe when pounding takes over my head. I lay on my side, curled up tight. My mouth is dry, and body is sore, but I’m alive!

I look around the shore of the river. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the blinding sunlight as I sit up. The movement alone takes an enormous amount of effort. Every part of me hurts, but in a dull, achy way. The raging waterfall tumbles down, foaming and frothing where it hits the wide river.

How long have I been out for? I was sleeping like a rock, dreamless and empty. My clothes are damp and cold, but the sun is so warm, it doesn’t bother me.

I hesitantly touch my back, where the beasts ripped into me. I’m afraid and expecting to find little to no skin, but the flesh there is raised and healed. How?

I look at my shin. Shiny, newly-formed skin has replaced the scratches and wounds. It probably won’t even scar. I gingerly run a hand along my leg, the skin still sensitive to touch. It’s a miracle.

“Orien did that.”

“Did what?”

“He saved you.”

Mor sits on a rock, resting his head in a large hand. His green eyes bore into me, but I don’t pay attention, because I find Orien lying on the ground, near death.

It’s a horrific sight. Dried blood coats his back. His clothes are ripped to shreds, and his hair is matted with a mix of his blood and that of the monsters. The golden tattoos covering his body have lost their shine and faded away.

I push myself off the ground. It takes me a moment to stand since my hands are still bound and my muscles sore. Is he alive? Dread rushes through me.

“Is he dead?” My voice shakes, quivering with emotion.

“Just about.”

“How can you be so calm? We need to help him!”

My fingers hover over his muscular back, which is now torn and ruined. I'm afraid to touch him, but I gingerly rest my hand against his forehead. His breathing is so shallow, I can’t even see the movement. His handsome face is expressionless, and he is cold to the touch, like an empty, beautiful shell.

Mor folds his arms. “He’s the only one that can help himself.”

I tear a piece of the cloth from the bottom of my pants. The bottom part is already ripped to shreds. I begin to press them over his cuts to stop the bleeding, praying to myself that Orien will be okay.

It isn’t much. The blood soaks into the fabric and sets there.

“What if he dies?” I ask frantically.

“Then he made his choice. He healed you with the last energy he had.”

“He saved me?” I brush strands of his white hair away from his eyes. His skin is soft and tender. Even near death, he still looks like a handsome model. The scratch running along his cheek only adds a slight ruggedness to his perfect face.

“He sacrificed himself for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. Baromenians can heal others, but it comes at a great cost.”

The words sink in. He cares about me?

I lean in above his ear. “Thank you,” I whisper lightly. I press my lips against his cold forehead and give him a gentle kiss.

But then his eyes snap open. The whites of his eyes are blue, and the irises and pupils, no more than a pale yellow. Their gold sheen has faded away.

“You're welcome,” he whispers in a faint voice.

My cheeks burn red. I’m embarrassed he heard me. I assumed he was completely out. I give a small smile, conflicted.

This whole time, he’s been talking about how he and Mor have to get paid. And that, I remind myself, is why he’s been keeping his distance from me, taunting me.

The only reason I even care is because he sacrificed himself for me. That’s it. I feel stupid for getting worked up about him being hurt. Why should I care?

But if he dies, my chances of being brought back to Earth are lower.

Still, I can’t make myself believe my own words. I fumble for a response to cover my tracks.

Instantly, the ochre color of his eyes seems to seep back vividly. Their beauty almost hypnotizes me. He snatches my wrist and yanks me down.

“You can’t fool me.” A flicker of a sly grin passes his lips. “I saw that look. You’re happy I survived.”

My body tenses, and the deepest parts are me are filled with longing. I start to sit up, but his grip is firm, and won't let me move. “You didn’t have to save me.”

“You’re worth too much money to let die,” he wheezes.

I can’t tell whether he’s kidding or not, but it’s bad timing for a joke like that. “I hope you don’t recover to see it,” I spit back.

“Oh, I’ll recover. Don’t you worry about it.” He laughs, but it sounds more like a strained gasp. His body shakes, the blood running onto the ground.

I rip my hand out of his and stand up without saying another word.

Mor sits on a rock with his arms folded, watching the entire encounter unfold.

“How do you put up with this guy?” I ask. Orien rests his head back down onto the ground and closes his eyes.

Mor shrugs. “Got no one else, I guess.”

I nod slowly and make my way to the water’s edge.

It would be a horrible life, having Orien as my friend. He’s never cared about me, and never will. I was foolish to think that.

After all of this, he just wants to get paid. I assume it’s a massive amount if he’s willing to almost die for it. At least I’m making him earn every single penny.

I slip off my shoes. The right one has several holes in it from being bitten.

“Don’t go in the water,” Mor’s voice booms.

“Why not?”

“The current will pull you away. You are too little.”

I go to protest—I’m not exactly tiny or weak, despite the way these two can throw me around—but I refrain.

My heart aches for a real bath with warm water to soak in so I can wash the blood off. I feel absolutely disgusting, and my hair is completely matted with dried blood.

I look up at the cliff. Heavy fog covers the area. It’s impossible to see the top. I look down, feeling sick, and watch the water race past me at tremendous speed. Is this really where we’d jumped off? And I survived?

“Is it safe to drink?”

Mor nods. “I scanned it this morning.” He points to his watch.

I have no choice but to put my trust in the alien technology. I timidly cup my hand and place it in the water. I need to drink; I can feel dehydration creeping up in the back of my throat. My head is still rushing.

I take a long, cool sip of the water. It helps a little. The taste of it has an almost metallic bitterness, but I find it extraordinarily refreshing. I scoop some more and wash some of the blood off my arm, careful not to fall in.

The shore we are resting at is a small place where the water has receded, exposing the rocky shore. It probably fills when it rains. We were lucky to have found a small shoreline like this, for the rest of the river is surrounded by thick jungle. It would have been extremely difficult to pull us out if we had fallen anywhere else.

“What happened last night?” I ask Mor.

He takes a deep breath. I study him now and can see that he also is covered in wounds, but nothing serious. His skin must be tougher than ours.

“We jumped off that cliff after being attacked last night. Orien was carrying you.”

“Really? He did?”

“It was what Orien wanted.”

He stands. His massive body casts a long shadow onto the ground. The sunlight bounces off his shiny, hairless head, and he begins to walk into the deep bush of the jungle.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to make sure we’re safe here. Orien won’t be able to travel for some time, not until he heals. We’re extremely vulnerable. I would prefer if we didn’t get another visit from those monsters. And seeing as you’re okay, I can go.”

“What if they come back while you’re gone?”

“I’m not going far.” He sticks a large finger out and points. “I’ll just be behind this tree line. Worst case scenario—you jump into the river and hope it takes you somewhere safe.”

His form disappears into the wall of the woods, leaving me alone to watch over Orien. I no longer look at the river wistfully, enjoying its refreshment and beauty. It scares me. Everything around me appears to grow taller, heavier.

I walk over and examine his back. His skin has stopped bleeding and is slowly mending itself, bit by bit. This must be how he didn’t have one scratch on him after the crash. They really can heal themselves. It doesn’t even seem real, these powers. He murmurs something in a dream-like state.

I lean my back against the base of a wide tree, in its shade. The evening sun is still sweltering, but a cool breeze has started to blow. I look up to the purplish sky. Heavy, white clouds blow over me.

How many people back at home are looking for me? Would anyone even think to look in another galaxy?

So many people go missing. Plenty of people are fleeing Earth’s overcrowded confines for a taste of the extraterrestrial life, something more glamorous. How many of them end up like me?

And for that matter—how does Josh feel about my absence? All of this might have been avoided if he’d just spoken with me that night, I reflect. Then again, I basically broke up with him by text.

With our lives at risk, my relationship status—my former relationship’s status—seems like such a stupid concern now.

I must have dozed off; when I wake up, it’s already night. Every time I wake up, part of me expects everything to end, and this horrible dream to be over. But it never is.

I wanted an adventure, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’ve never been so wrong in my life. If I ever get to travel again, it’s going to be first class all the way, with competent tour guides. Although a traitorous part of me whispers that at least my tour guide is pretty hot.

Above us, I can see a huge, orange moon glowing brightly surrounded by shining stars, and in the luminous moonlight, Orien stands at the water’s edge. The sight of him takes my breath away.

He is shirtless, with his back to me. Despite all the damage he had sustained the night before, no cuts or bruises cover him, except for three long scars, rising ever so slightly across his back. The golden tattoos dazzle and gleam as though they had just been painted on and are still wet.

He stretches his arms and throws his shirt back on. It’s ripped and torn, just like mine. His leather jacket is gone, though.

He turns to face me. His eyes burn with electricity. The light in them is ablaze, and the marvelous ochre color has returned, brighter than ever. He looks brand new, fresh. He smooths his hair back.

“Well, look who's finally up,” he murmurs.

I have no response. I haven’t taken one breath.

He walks over with energy and crouches down right in front of me. I can feel the heat radiating off every piece of him, like a fire that’s reaching into my body and igniting me.

“What’s the matter?”

“How—how are you okay?” My voice cracks. He looks too perfect.

He smiles, flashing a row of straight, white teeth. “Can’t die yet. I still need to get paid.”

“It’s like you’re brand new.”

He holds out his arm. “It’s all me. Look.”

I gently run my hand along his forearm. I can’t help but trace the intricate pattern of the tattoo that winds up to his shoulder. It curls and bends into strange geometric shapes. The heat of his skin makes my fingers shake, and the thrill of touching him is almost overwhelming. His skin is smooth, like silk, but the muscles underneath are hard. I look up, and his blazing eyes hold mine.

“How did you do it?”

“Hm?”

“Heal me.” I continue to trace along his arm.

“I could explain the vast secrets of my society’s history, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Nevermind, then,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

He smiles, flexing his arm. The veins and tendons pop. He’s in incredible shape. He knows it, too. “Glad you’re enjoying the view,” he purrs.

His fingers interlock with mine for a second, then pull away.

My whole body jumps when he grabs my hand. I don’t want him to let go. He lets out a drawn-out breath through his nose. The animalistic glint returns and scintillates in his eyes.

Now I know he wants me—badly. I chew on my bottom lip. He saved my life, which means he cares.

And if he cares, maybe I don’t have to be stuck marrying a stranger after all, whispers that traitorous part.

There’s no time for a—a stupid crush, I reprimand myself. I have to focus on my plan.

If he likes me, I might actually be able to convince him to take me back to Earth, or somewhere else safe, once we find a ship. The idea excites me.

“What?” he asks.

My eyes catch his, and I scrunch my brows in confusion.

He shifts his weight from foot to foot and folds his arms. “You’re thinking something.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You bite your lips here when you’re lost in thought.” His finger floats over my bottom lip, and the closeness makes my heart rate climb.

“No, I don’t,” I protest weakly.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I wasn't thinking about anything serious.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back. “Fair enough. You don’t have to tell me.”