#9901

I knew she'd be angry at me when I got back. Hell, I deserved it. I promised her I wouldn't get hurt, and here I was, gripping my forearm, trying to stop the bleeding. 

The door that led to the dark pathway we first used to get to the building appeared in the dark in front of us. The night vision through my helmet helped as we walked through the damp and musky hallway. The sound of gloves rubbing together for a second told me that Crosshair had taken Yelizaveta's hand and was leading her through the dark. 

The smell of meat, broth, and vegetables hit my nose, as well as the smell of armor and skin as we made it to the door at the end of the hallway. By now I was used to the overwhelming feeling of being cascaded with smells and noises. Not to mention the heightened eyesight that came with migraines. 

The door slid open and suddenly the only thing I could focus on was the sight of Anya standing in front of me, with her eyes wide. She was frozen on the spot and her entire body was tense. But, blast, was she beautiful. Even with stress and slow anger spreading over her facial features. Even as her critical gaze was focused on me.  

"Hunter..." Her voice was quiet and hesitant as I watched her eyes slowly run over my body, following the arm that held my injured forearm. 

I waited until her eyes were on my face to say, "I'm fine." I winced internally as it came out more pained and exhausted than I wanted it to. 

Anya's brows furrowed and I watched her throat move as she swallowed, preparing to say something. But when her mouth opened, nothing came out. Then she wordlessly pointed to a table that was placed in a crevice of the room. I immediately knew she wanted me to let her patch me up and I opened my mouth to protest, but the simple arch of one of her eyebrows made the words freeze in my throat. 

I was supposed to be the one in command. The one others listened to. But here I was, picking up on Anya's cues and wordlessly listening to them. 

Yelizaveta walked past me and pushed my shoulder with her own, wordlessly telling me to follow Anya and not argue with her. I looked over my shoulder at her, seeing Crosshair and Wrecker both follow her, leaving me alone with Anya.

I followed her as she silently walked to the table, a medical box in her hands. Watching the sway of her hips and the way her hair moved with the rest of her body made my throat go dry. I knew I needed her to know I was okay. My wound wasn't that bad. I had definitely experienced worse. 

When I finally stood inches behind her, the smell of her hair and skin flowing into my nose, I took a deep breath and reached out, my hand brushing against the curve of her hip. The soft flesh felt so good on my fingers. But when Anya felt my fingers touching her, she turned around.

Even though she looked angry and annoyed, her face was slowly turning pink. I knew she enjoyed my touch, though she seemed to get nervous when I did. Her arms crossed over her chest as she mumbled, "Why couldn't you have taken care of yourself?" 

I tilted my head. "I tried my best." My tone, though exhausted, was teasing. 

"Clearly you didn't try hard enough." She reached out and lifted my arm by my elbow, careful not to hurt him more. When Anya took a closer look at the way I wrapped my wound, which hadn't been done well since I had focused on getting back to base fast, her jaw clenched, that muscle in her smooth cheek moving. 

"You couldn't have taken an extra two seconds to properly wrap this?"

A small smile spread on my lips at her very obvious worry for me. "Getting back here was more important." 

She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she slowly began to unwrap my forearm, cringing slightly at the sight of all the blood I had lost. I felt the urge to pull her lip out between her teeth and kept my hands to myself. But the quiet slithering of fabric freeing itself from my forearm made my hand dart out to catch the sheath of my vibroblade that had begun to fall. I then slid my hand between her arm and waist to put the vibroblade on the table behind her. My eyes ran over the curve of her waist and I swallowed, pushing down the urge to cup it with my hand. 

"Were Wrecker and Yelizaveta not there to help?" 

Anya's question was quiet and conflicted as she finally laid eyes on the jagged cut. I let out a deep sigh, but she didn't respond to that. She just grabbed an alcohol wipe and murmured, "This is going to sting." 

She took her time to slowly and carefully clean and bandage the wound, all the while I held my breath, watching her every move. When she turned back to the table, her body stiff, I finally asked, "Are you mad at me?"

"No." Her answer came back a little too quickly. "Why would I be mad at you? It's the bounty hunter I should be mad at." I immediately knew she was lying. Her heartbeat was too fast and her breathing was ragged. But I knew she wasn't just mad. She was flustered by how close we were.

"You are." I slowly reached out and trailed two fingers down her spine, unable to resist the urge to soothe her, to help her understand that I was more than fine. Without thinking, I cupped her waist the way I wanted to. She was so small, the tips of my fingers digging to the soft flesh of her stomach. Hearing her breath catch told me that she wanted more.

I stepped forward, pressing her back against my chest. She was so warm and smooth and she smelled good. Leaning down so my mouth brushed against her ear, I murmured, "You don't have to worry about me." 

"How could I not when you go and get yourself hurt?" 

Anya was breathless and leaning into me like she couldn't hold up her own weight. I slowly turned her around, whispering, "Don't be angry." 

I pushed her against the table so she pressed up against me and couldn't lean away, even though I knew she wouldn't. She wanted this just as much as I did. Searching her face for permission, I could see that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide with anticipation as she watched me. 

I leaned forward and swallowed, my lips seeking hers. When they finally made contact, a strange sense of victory and elation spread through me. I was finally touching her and kissing her and showing her what she meant to me. I didn't ever want to let go. I wanted her to be mine and to let me protect her until my last breath. She was perfect. When she didn't pull away or try to push me away, I drew her closer to my body, my fingers splayed across her back. She was leaning into me, pressing her body against mine. 

After a moment, I pulled back, taking in a ragged breath. I could hear her heart thundering in my ears, her fingers gripping my shoulders like she would never let go. I kept my eyes closed, breathing her in for a few more moments. 

"Don't be mad," I whispered, my breath fanning across her skin.