Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 3: Dream

**(Trigger Warning: Note that this chapter may not be appropriate for some readers. It contains elements of violence, vomiting, bullying, portrayals of sexual assault, profanity, non-con touching, and panic attacks. Reader discretion advised)**

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Lauren
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After checking for broken bones, positive I had bruised at least one rib, I peered outside the tunnel. Searing flames flickered within the darkness of the forest as beams of blue light streamed down around the hovering spaceship. Through the smoke, I could just make out the smoking body of an overturned car.

"How did this happen?" My gaze drifted over to Peter, who was examining the cut and burns on his arm.

I wasn't really expecting him to answer, so I was a bit surprised when he shrugged, picking some shards of metal from his arm. "How should I know? From the looks of it, the whole world's gone to shit." Having sensed my gaze, inclining his chin in my directing with a grimace. "What?"

I did my best to cross my arms over my chest, but found it problematic with my aching side. "I don't get it. Why'd you save me? Ever since we started high school, you've acted like a total jackass. I thought you hated me."

For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of shock in his eyes before his expression shuttered. "First, let's get one thing straight, okay? You don't mention us before high school. Ever. Got it?"

I tried not to roll my eyes and ended up scowling instead.

"And secondly, it doesn't matter why. All that matters is that I did and now you owe me." Peter's harsh tone took on a certain smugness.

I cringed at his threat, my lips pulling back to bare my teeth in snarl. No. Hell no. I did not want to be indebted to anyone, least of all this bastard. Not after all he'd done. "If that's how it is, I'd rather you have just let me die. I don't owe you shit."

A wolfish grin broke out across his face as he leaned in close enough to smell the remnants of his god-awful cologne. "We'll see about that," he growls.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, that twisted, broken part of me actually takes pleasure in his tone, a wicked shiver traveling down my spine and settling low in my belly. To my annoyance, heat flooded my face and I had to bite my lip against the fantasy that husky voice invoked in my messed up head. Things like roaming hands, careless kisses, his mouth whispering my name while caressing my body as he held me down and—

Anger sparked at the intrusive thoughts and I twisted away from him. Useless brain. I was done with Peter. We were not friends, and I certainly was not going to imagine anything remotely intimate with the likes of him. Feeling my head clear from the adrenaline, I paused when remembering Peter's wound.

My eyes fell to the gash on his arm where the burns had cauterized, stopping most of the bleeding. The edges of the wounds were scalded black from the intense heat of the blast. Closing my eyes in frustration, I sucked in a deep breath. This was going to be difficult.

"We've got to deal with your arm first," I muttered, my tone surprisingly calm considering my turbulent emotions. Shaky fingers grabbed the bottom of my sweater and I pulled it over my head, tying the material around my waist by the sleeves. Silently, I began taking off my remaining plain white t-shirt.

Peter's eyes went as wide as saucers. He jumped to his feet as though I'd threatened to burned him with a hot poker. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"