Chapter 226

Chapter 226: Chapter 226

Dron hated waiting.

He could fight. He could command. He could put his body between danger and the people he cared about without a second thought. Those were things he understood. Even pain was something he understood. He could take it, push through it, and return it tenfold if that was what needed to be done. This was different. There was nothing for him to hit, nothing for him to threaten, and no enemy standing in front of him that he could kill. All he could do was stand there and wait while someone else fought a battle happening inside their own body.

The humans had done everything Gerax and Aliq asked of them. Every single one of them had agreed to give blood. Even the ones who’d been hesitant at first had eventually come forward, and Dron still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He was grateful to them. He knew what they were doing could save nearly half of their fighting force, but every time he looked at Tempest, all he could think about was the blood they’d taken from her.

It hadn’t been too much. Gerax had assured him of that more times than Dron could count. Tempest had assured him of the same thing, but it didn’t matter. Dron had watched her blood leave her body and travel through a clear tube into one of the collection bags.

He hadn’t liked it.

He still didn’t.

Gerax and Aliq had spent what felt like forever working with the blood. They didn’t have all the equipment Gerax would’ve preferred, but somehow they’d managed. They were able to isolate the genes in the plasma that carried the antibodies they needed. Once they knew what they were looking for, they could compare the other humans’ blood, separate the plasma, and begin giving it to the sick Usteans.

Then there was nothing left to do but wait.

Dron had expected something to happen quickly. He didn’t know why. Maybe because Tempest had spoken about antibodies as if they were little soldiers inside her body waiting to attack the illness. Maybe some part of him had expected those soldiers to immediately go to war the moment they entered an Ustean’s body.

That wasn’t what happened.

At first, nothing happened at all.

The sick remained sick. The coughing continued, the fevers stayed dangerously high, and some of the Usteans remained unconscious while others were barely coherent enough to understand what was happening around them. Dron had watched Gerax move from one person to the next, checking temperatures and other things Dron didn’t understand before moving on to the next person.

Then the first fever dropped.

Barely.

It wasn’t enough for anyone to celebrate, but Gerax noticed it. Not long after that, another Ustean’s temperature dropped. One who hadn’t been able to sit up managed to drink water without help, while another stopped coughing long enough to finally fall into what looked like a peaceful sleep.

They were small improvements, things Dron probably wouldn’t have thought much of any other time, but right now they felt enormous.

The plasma was working.

Just not for everyone.

Dron stood near Gerax as the beta stared down at the device in his hand. He’d been looking at it for so long that Dron was beginning to hate the thing. He already knew what Gerax was looking at. There was only one person Dron had been asking him about since they started giving out the plasma.

"Anything?"

Gerax didn’t look at him. "Some are responding. More than half of the ones we’ve treated have shown some improvement."

"I know that." Dron stepped closer, studying Gerax’s face. "That isn’t what I asked."

Gerax finally looked at him, and Dron knew before he said another word. His stomach tightened as he thought about the male he’d once wanted nothing more than to beat into the ground.

"Rynax?"

Gerax lowered his eyes.

"No."

"Dron."

"No." Dron shook his head. He didn’t even know what he was denying. Gerax hadn’t said anything yet, but Dron already knew he didn’t want to hear it.

"His temperature is still rising."

Dron stared at him. "How high?"

Gerax hesitated.

"How high?"

"One hundred and fourteen."

Dron stopped breathing.

He knew that number. More importantly, he knew the number that came after it.

One hundred and fifteen.

That was what Gerax had told them before. One hundred and fifteen was the point where there was no coming back. It was the point where an Ustean body simply couldn’t withstand the heat anymore.

Rynax was one degree away from death.

Dron turned away from Gerax, and his eyes immediately found Tempest. She stood near the other side of the ship with her arms wrapped around herself. Her face told him she already knew. The moment their eyes met, something inside of her seemed to break.

Dron crossed the distance between them, and Tempest came against him before he could even reach for her. She pressed her face against his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

"It isn’t working," she whispered.

Dron held her tighter.

"It’s working for the others. Gerax said some of their fevers are coming down. One of them ate something. Another one is awake now. It’s working, Dron." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him.

"But not Rynax," Dron finished for her.

Tempest’s fingers tightened around the fabric covering his chest. "Why?"

He didn’t have an answer for her. That was the worst part. Gerax didn’t have one either. Gerax always had some sort of answer. Even when he didn’t know something for certain, he had a theory or an idea of something else they could try. This time, he’d done everything he could think of. They’d given Rynax the plasma. They’d given him fluids. They’d tried to cool his body. They’d done everything the limited supplies on the ships allowed them to do, but his temperature was still climbing.

"I’m going to see him," Dron said.

Tempest pulled away just enough to look up at him. "Dron..."

"I need to."

Her eyes were already wet. Dron hated seeing her like that. He touched the side of her face, running his thumb over her cheek. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but none of it would change what was happening on the other ship.

"I need to," he repeated.

This time Tempest nodded.

Dron left before he could change his mind.

He found Rynax lying toward the rear of the ship, away from some of the others. For a moment, Dron thought he was asleep, but then the male’s eyes slowly opened.

"Dron."

His voice sounded wrong.

That bothered Dron more than he wanted to admit. Rynax had never sounded weak. Even after a fight, even when injured, even when Dron wanted nothing more than to punch that ridiculous smile off his face, Rynax always sounded like Rynax. He was confident, arrogant, and usually amused by something that wasn’t nearly as funny as he thought it was.

Dron pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. "You look horrible."

Rynax’s lips twitched. "You’ve looked horrible your entire life."

A laugh escaped Dron before he could stop it. The sound hurt coming out, but he welcomed it anyway. "At least you’re still an ass."

"Wouldn’t want..." Rynax stopped as a violent cough tore through him.

Dron immediately leaned forward. The coughing continued until Rynax curled onto his side, his entire body shaking with the force of it. Every breath sounded like it scraped through his chest, and Dron found himself reaching forward before stopping. There was nothing he could do. He hated that feeling more than anything.

Finally, Rynax settled back against the cot.

"Gerax says the treatment is working," Dron said.

"Not on me."

Dron’s jaw tightened. "It will."

Rynax opened one eye and looked at him. "You’re a terrible liar."

"I am not lying."

"You are."

"Then shut up."

The faintest laugh escaped Rynax, and for a while, neither of them said anything. Dron sat there listening to him breathe. Without meaning to, he started counting each breath. Every time Rynax inhaled, Dron waited for the exhale. Every time he exhaled, Dron waited for another breath to follow.

"You know..." Rynax finally whispered.

"Don’t."

Rynax slowly turned his head. "I haven’t said anything."

"I know what you are going to say. If this is some final speech, save it."

Rynax’s lips twitched again. "You think I would waste my final speech on you? I’d find a beautiful female."

"Then you will have to live long enough to find one."

Rynax’s smile disappeared, and his eyes moved away. "Minnie."

Dron swallowed. "She’s alive."

"Good."

"She’s going to stay that way."

Rynax nodded slowly. "Good. Don’t let her come here."

"She wants to see you."

"No."

"Rynax."

"No." There was strength in that word that hadn’t been in the others. "I don’t want her seeing me like this."

"She won’t care."

"I do."

Dron understood that more than he wanted to. There had been plenty of times when he didn’t want Tempest to see him weak, broken, or unable to protect her. It had taken him far too long to understand that she never saw him the same way he saw himself.

Rynax’s breathing grew heavier again before his eyes found Dron. "Tempest?"

Dron’s entire body immediately tensed.

Rynax noticed. Even lying there half-dead, the male noticed.

"Still?" Rynax rasped.

"Still what?"

"Still ready to kill me for saying her name."

"Yes."

Rynax laughed, but the sound quickly turned into another cough. Dron waited until it passed before leaning back in the chair.

"She’s worried about you," Dron said.

"I know."

"She gave her blood."

"I know that too."

"Of course you do."

"I know everything."

"You’re insufferable."

"Better than cursed."

There was a time when that word would’ve immediately angered Dron. It would’ve made his body tighten and reminded him of every stare, whisper, and cruel comment he’d endured throughout his life.

This time, he felt nothing.

Rynax seemed to notice it too.

"Not anymore," Rynax said.

Dron looked at him.

"You don’t look cursed anymore."

Dron glanced down at himself. His skin was still covered, his changing markings hidden beneath his clothing, but somehow he knew Rynax wasn’t talking about them.

"Treasure her."

Dron went still.

"Tempest," Rynax clarified.

"I know who you mean."

"Then listen." Rynax took another difficult breath. "Treasure her. Not because she’s human. Not because she’s your mate. Not because everyone thinks she’s going to save Ustea. Treasure her because she’s Tempest."

Dron lowered his head. "I do."

"No." Rynax slowly shook his head. "You love her."

"Is there a difference?"

"Sometimes." Rynax closed his eyes. "Love makes males stupid."

Despite himself, Dron almost smiled. "You would know?"

"No."

The answer came too quickly, and Minnie immediately flashed through Dron’s mind. He could’ve questioned him about it, but now wasn’t the time. Maybe if Rynax got better, Dron would make it his mission to torment him about the female for as long as possible.

When.

When Rynax got better.

"You spend so much time worrying about losing her that sometimes you forget you have her," Rynax continued.

The words struck Dron harder than he expected.

"Stop thinking about what happens if she dies. Stop thinking about whether you’re good enough. Stop thinking about what those marks mean or what everyone expects from you." Rynax opened his eyes again and stared directly at him. "Just have her. Because one day... you might not."

"You’re talking too much."

"I usually do."

"Then stop."

"No."

Dron looked away as his eyes began to burn. He hated it. He hated Rynax for making him sit there and listen to this. He hated Gerax for not being able to fix him. For one horrible moment, he even hated the humans for bringing an illness to them that none of the Usteans knew existed, but the thought disappeared almost as quickly as it came. None of this was their fault. Sara hadn’t asked to be brought to Ustea. Tempest hadn’t asked for any of this either.

Rynax shifted beside him, his face twisting with pain. Dron reached out without thinking and gripped his forearm. The heat coming from his skin was frightening.

"Dron."

"What?"

"If I don’t..."

"Don’t."

Rynax tightened his hand around Dron’s arm. The grip was weak. So weak that Dron could barely feel it. That scared him more than the fever. Rynax had once been strong enough to trade blows with him for hours. Now the male could barely close his fingers around Dron’s arm.

"Thank you," Dron said.

Rynax frowned. "For what?"

Dron stared down at their joined arms. There were things he’d never imagined himself saying to Rynax, and this was one of them.

"For her."

Rynax’s expression softened.

"There were times I couldn’t protect Tempest," Dron continued. "There were times I wasn’t there. Times I didn’t know where she was. Times she needed someone."

"Dron..."

"You were there."

Rynax stared at him.

"I hated you for it," Dron admitted.

"I know."

"I wanted to tear your head from your body every time you looked at her."

"I know that too."

"But you protected her." Dron tightened his grip around Rynax’s arm. "You trained her when she needed to learn how to protect herself. You watched her when I couldn’t. You brought her back to me. I will never forget that."

Rynax swallowed. "She would’ve done it without me."

"Probably."

That finally earned him a faint smile.

"Stubborn female."

"The most stubborn."

"Good for you."

Dron laughed quietly, but the sound disappeared when Rynax’s hand suddenly went slack inside his.

His smile vanished.

"Rynax?"

There was no response.

Dron leaned forward, watching his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was moving. For one horrifying moment, he couldn’t hear Rynax breathing at all.

"Rynax."

Nothing.

Dron grabbed his shoulder. "Rynax!"

The door behind him flew open, and Gerax rushed inside with Tempest directly behind him.

"What happened?" Gerax asked.

"I don’t know." Dron moved aside as Gerax dropped beside Rynax.

Tempest grabbed Dron’s arm. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look anywhere except at the male lying motionless on the cot as Gerax pressed the device against his skin.

The seconds stretched too long.

"Gerax."

Gerax didn’t answer.

"Gerax!"

The device made a sharp sound.

Gerax froze.

Dron watched the color drain from his face while Tempest’s fingers tightened around his arm.

"What?" Dron demanded.

Gerax stared at the reading for another moment before slowly lifting his eyes.

"His temperature just hit one hundred and fifteen."