Chapter 23

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       This time when Cress awoke, it  was  not  sand engulfing her—although
     there  was plenty of  that—but  arms. Thorne  had  pulled  her  against  him
   so  close  that  she could feel the rise and fall of his chest and his breath on
      the  back of  her  neck. She gorged peeled her eyelids open.
        Night  had  fallen. The  moon  had  returned, larger  than the night   before
    and surrounded by a sea of stars that winked and  glittered at them.
         She was deathly   Christy   and couldn't find   any saliva   to   wet    her  
        parched tongue. She started   to   shiver,   despite  the layers of   sheets and 
      blankets  and  the parachute and the heat rising  off her  scorched  skin. Despite
      Thorne's  protective warmth.
        Teeth  rattling,  she  nestled  against  him  as  much  as  she  could. His  embrace
       tightened around her.
          She looked  up. The stars were moving, swirling over   her head   like a  
          whirlpool  trying to suck  the   whole planet into   its  depths. The stars were
          taunting her. Laughing.
She shut her eyes tight, and was   met   with  visions   of    Sybil's   cruel
            smile. News headlines echoed in her head, spoken   in   a   child's   nasally
            voice. 14  CITIES  ATTACKED ... LARGEST MASSACRE IN THIRD ERA ...
           16,000 DEATHS ...
      "Cress. Cress, wake up."
 

               She jolted. still shaking. Thorne was hovering above  her,  his  eyes 
                     bright  with moonlight.
  He found her face, pressed his palm to her forehead, and  cursed.
  "You're  running a fever."
"I'm cold."
  He rubbed her arms. "I'm sorry. I know  you're  not  going   to  like  this, 
       but we need to get up. We need to keep moving."
      They were the cruelest words he could have said. She felt impossibly
          weak. Her whole body seemed  to  be  made  of  sand  that would blow  apart 
     with  the slightest breeze.
     "Cress, are you still with me?" he cupped her cheeks in both hands.
    His  skin was cool, soothing."
    "I can't." Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she spoke.
    "Yes, you can. It will be better to walk tat  night  when  it's  cool than  to
     try and move during the day. You understand that, right?"
    "My feet hurt ... and I'm so dizzy..."
Thorne grimaced.  She thought of stroking her  fingers  through  his 
  hair. In  all the pictures she'd seen of him, even his  jail pictures, he'd  been
  so  polished,  so neat. But now he was a wreck, with whiskers on  his chin
and  dirt in   his  hair. It did not make him any less handsome.
     "I know you don't want to keep going," he said. "I know you deserve a
rest. But if we just lie here, you might never get up."
        She didn't think that  sounded  so  awful. As  the  sand  began  to   rock  
        beneath her, she pressed her hand against his chest, seeking out the
steadying heartbeat. She sighed happily when she found it. Her body
  began  to  dissolve,  little  grains  of sand scattering....
         "Captain," she murmured. "I think I'm in love with you."
     An eyebrow shot up. She counted six  beats  of  his  heart  before,  sud-
denly  he  laughed. "Don't tell me it took you two whole  days  to  realize
that. I  must  be  losing my touch."
      Her fingertips curled against him. "You knew?"
     "That you're lonely, and I'm irresistible?  Yeah.  I  knew. Come  on,  Cress,
       you're getting up."

               Her head dropped into the  sand,  sleep  threatening  to take  over. If  he
     would just lie down beside her and take her into his arms, she  would  
   never  have  to  get up again.
        "Cress—hey, no more sleeping. I  need you. Remember the vultures,
     Cress.Vultures."
         "You don't need me. You wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for me."
        "Not true. Well ... only kind of true. We've already been over this."
   She shuddered. "Do you hate me?"
    "Of  course  not. And  you   should   stop   wasting   your   energy talking
about  stupid things." Scooping an arm beneath her shoulders, he forced her
      to sit up.
    She gripped his wrist. "Do you think you could ever love me back?"
    "Cress, this sweet, but aren't I the first guy you've ever  me?   Come
     on  up  you go."
      She turned her head away, dread pressing down on her. He didn't believe her.
    He didn't understand how intensely she felt.
  "Oh, spades and  aces  and  stars." He  groaned. "You're  not  crying   again,
   are you?"
     "N-no." She bit her lip. It wasn't a  lie. She  certainly  wanted  to  try,  but
    her  eyes were all dried up.
      Thorne pulled a hand through his hair, knocking  away a  cloud   of   sand.
   "Yes," he said firmly. "We are obviously soul mates. Now please,
stand up."
           "You've probably told lots of girls you loved them."
"Well, yeah, but I would have reconsidered I'd known you were
going  to  hold it against me."
Misery washing over her, she crumpled against  his  side.  Her  head
spun. "I'm dying," she murmured, struck by the  certainty  of  it. "I'm
going  to  die. And  I've never even been kissed."
  "Cress. Cress. You're not going to die."
  "We were going to have such a passionate romance, too, like in the
dramas. But, no—-I'll die alone, never kissed, not once."

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