Her, not so much.
She cringed as they started lamming into the upper limbs of trees. It made the pod buck so hard she could barely stay in her seat even with straps. Her heart was pounding as fear held her close and mutilated her hope for living through this.
Suddenly, Caillen turned, unbuckled her belt and wrapped his body around hers, pulling her onto the floor. The pod slammed down hard. The only cushion she had was Caillen’s body. Although honestly, it was almost as hard as the steel walls surrounding them.
Her breath left her as they were thrown against the steel and the pod rolled over and over. They tumbled like a stone in a cylinder and still Caillen held on to her, trying to keep her safe.
For a moment, she thought they’d live through the crash until her head struck something so forcefully it made her sick. Her vision dimmed. She fought the darkness as best as she could, but in the end the blackness took her under.
The ship finally stopped.
Caillen remained still, waiting for more—they’d had such a rough landing that it felt like they were moving even though he could see they weren’t.
But they stayed put. The pod snapped and hissed around him. Everything in it had been shaken loose to the point that it looked like the thing had been gutted. Wires, straps and pieces of steel swung and sparked, but at least the fires provided some form of light in the dark interior. The area where their seats had been was completely destroyed. He lay on his back with Desideria draped over him. Her breath tickled his skin, letting him know she was alive even though she was completely motionless. Pain reverberated through his body and head with every heartbeat.
I can’t move. But at least by unbuckling them, he’d saved their lives.
The sudden smell of engine fuel hit him… like it was gushing out of something and pooling nearby. It mingled with the harsh odor of burning wires.
Shit. The pod’s going to explode.
True to that prediction, he saw flames spread across the floor. They licked at his boots. The heat was searing. Grinding his teeth, he forced his ravaged body to move and move fast. But it was hard. Nothing wanted to work as he stamped out the fire at his feet.
“Princess?”
She was unconscious and bleeding profusely from a head wound. With a loud groan, he pushed her back enough so that he could roll out from under her. On unsteady feet, he picked her up and cradled her close. She really was tiny. Something that was easy to lose sight of when she was awake and bitching at him. Then she seemed larger than life.
His body rebelling against any act that didn’t involve him lying down, he carried her out of the craft and took her to a safe distance from the pod before he laid her down on the ground.
He sat back on his heels, grateful to be out of the pod and able to breathe fresh, nonburning air. Brushing his hair back from his forehead, he saw the blood on his hand. Yeah. Just what he needed. A head wound of his own. He took inventory of his conditionhis f hers. Instinctively, he reached for his backpack to get a cloth to stop her bleeding only to realize it was still in the pod.
Shit. He needed that. It would have medical supplies, food and other things they’d need if they planned to survive this.
He looked back at the burning pod. Only a flaming, krikkin idiot would run into something that was about to explode…
Good thing I’m an idiot.
Before his common sense could override his stupidity, he dashed back to the pod. The metal was hot from the flames—which he discovered as his hand accidentally brushed a wall and was burned. Coughing, he covered his mouth with his shirt and held it there with his burned hand while he tried to see into the small compartment. Ah man, everything had been tossed around to the point he couldn’t identify anything. Getting down on his hands and knees, he searched the wreckage as fast as he could. He choked and coughed, struggling to breathe. Just as he was about to give up, he saw a black strap on the floor.
His pack was underneath the crushed-in front console. He scooted forward and grabbed it, then paused as he heard something whine.
The roof lining was caving in.
Damn it! Jerking the pack to him, he scurried for the door. Just when he thought he was free, a part of the ceiling fell across his back and slammed him to the ground. He tried his best to crawl out from under it, but he was trapped. Flames blazed higher and brighter. The stench of fuel was making him light-headed. His lungs struggled to find oxygen.
Crap… I’m going to die.
Right here. Right now.
Still he fought even though it was futile. After all, he was a Dagan and Dagans never surrendered to death. Not without a bloody battle.