The Host (The Host #1)(118)

You know what will happen. Kyle broke the rules. Jeb will shoot him, or they’ll kick him out. Maybe Ian will beat the snot out of him first. That would be fun to watch.

Melanie didn’t really mean it—I didn’t think so, anyway. She was just still mad at me for risking our lives to save our would-be murderer.

Exactly, I told her. And if they kick Kyle out for me… or kill him… I shuddered. Well, can’t you see how little sense that would make? He’s one of you.

We’ve got a life here, Wanda. You’re jeopardizing that.

It’s my life, too. And I’m… well, I’m me.

Melanie groaned in disgust.

“Wanda?” Ian demanded.

“Nothing,” I muttered.

“You’re a rotten liar. You know that, right?”

I kept my head down and breathed.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing,” I lied. Poorly.

Ian put his hand under my chin, pulled my face up. “Your nose is bleeding.” He twisted my head to the side. “And there’s more blood in your hair.”

“I—hit my head when the floor fell.”

“On both sides?”

I shrugged.

Ian glared at me for a long moment. The darkness of the tunnel muted the brilliance of his eyes.

“We should get Kyle to Doc—he really cracked his head when he went down.”

“Why are you protecting him? He tried to kill you.” It was a statement of fact, not a question. His expression slowly melted from anger to horror. He was imagining what we had been doing on that unstable shelf—I could see that in his eyes. When I did not answer, he spoke again in a whisper. “He was going to throw you in the river.…” A strange tremor shook his body.

Ian had one arm around Kyle—he’d collapsed that way and seemed too tired to move. Now he shoved his unconscious brother away roughly, sliding farther from him in disgust. He slid into me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. He pulled me close against his chest—I could feel his breath go in and out, still more ragged than normal.

It felt very strange.

“I should roll him right back in there and kick him over the edge myself.”

I shook my head frantically, making it throb in pain. “No.”

“Saves time. Jeb made the rules clear. You try to hurt someone here, there are penalties. There’ll be a tribunal.”

I tried to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip. It wasn’t frightening, not like the way Kyle had grabbed me. But it was upsetting—it threw me off balance. “No. You can’t do that, because no one broke the rules. The floor collapsed, that’s all.”

“Wanda —”

“He’s your brother.”

“He knew what he was doing. He’s my brother, yes, but he did what he did, and you are… you are… my friend.”

“He did nothing. He is human,” I whispered. “This is his place, not mine.”

“We’re not having this discussion again. Your definition of human is not the same as mine. To you, it means something… negative. To me, it’s a compliment—and by my definition, you are and he isn’t. Not after this.”

“Human isn’t a negative to me. I know you now. But Ian, he’s your brother.”

“A fact that shames me.”

I pushed away from him again. This time, he let me go. It might have had something to do with the moan of pain that escaped my lips when I moved my leg.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so. We need to find Doc, but I don’t know if I can walk. I—I hit my leg, when I fell.”

A growl strangled in his throat. “Which leg? Let me see.”

I tried to straighten out my hurt leg—it was the right one—and groaned again. His hands started at my ankle, testing the bones, the joints. He rotated my ankle carefully.

“Higher. Here.” I pulled his hand to the back of my thigh, just above the knee. I moaned again when he pressed the sore place. “It’s not broken or anything, I don’t think. Just really sore.”

“Deep muscle bruise, at least,” he muttered. “And how did this happen?”

“Must have… landed on a rock when I fell.”

He sighed. “Okay, let’s get you to Doc.”

“Kyle needs him more than I do.”

“I have to go find Doc anyway—or some help. I can’t carry Kyle that far, but I can certainly carry you. Oops—hold on.”

He turned abruptly and ducked back into the river room. I decided I wouldn’t argue with him. I wanted to see Walter before… Doc had promised to wait for me. Would that first dose of painkiller wear off soon? My head swam. There was so much to worry about, and I was so tired. The adrenaline had drained, leaving me empty.

Ian came back with the gun. I frowned because this reminded me that I’d wished for it before. I didn’t like that.

“Let’s go.”

Without thinking, he handed the gun to me. I let it fall into my open palms, but I couldn’t curl my hands around it. I decided it was a suitable punishment, to have to carry the thing.

Ian chuckled. “How anyone could be afraid of you…” he mumbled to himself.

He picked me up easily and was moving before I was settled. I tried to keep the tenderest parts—the back of my head, the back of my leg—from resting on him too hard.