Page 51 of The Last Hunt

Aethon retrieves it and then sits down on the bed next to Maeve. She shrugs off her jacket, wincing as it brushes against her arm.

Cho had sliced her up pretty badly. She has cuts in a checkerboard pattern over her inner arm, and several squares of skin had been removed, leaving open wounds. The thought that someone hurt her like that makes rage boil in Aethon’s gut. Maybe he should have killed Cho after all.

Wordlessly, Aethon cleans Maeve up. He works as quickly and carefully as possible, and she only winces a few times, her breath hissing as he rubs antibacterial gel over her cuts. The small cut on her throat has already stopped bleeding.

“Can’t seem to avoid getting hurt these days,” Maeve mutters.

Aethon shrugs. “It’s not so bad when you have another person to patch you up.” He leans back after wrapping her arm tightly in a white bandage. “There.”

Maeve flexes her elbow and lays her arm down gently on the bed. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Aethon packs up the medkit and puts it away, then returns to Maeve, sitting down next to her on the bed. The air between them feels both relieved and taut - a frustrating duality. Aethon’s adrenaline is finally starting to wane and he sighs, his muscles loosening.

Maeve speaks into the stillness first.

“I thought Cho had you,” she says. She shifts, turning to face him. Her eyes are clear and unguarded, but her brows are tight. She still looks angry, but Aethon doesn’t feel like it’s directed at him.

“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. “Once I finally saw your messages, I gathered that.”

“He must have hijacked your tab,” Maeve says, shaking her head. “But I don’t know how he would have known…”

“What did he know?” Aethon asks.

Maeve huffs. “He knew you call me Bladesy. That’s why I was certain he had you.”

Aethon pulls his tab out and opens his contacts, pulling hers up. He shows the contact to her.

Maeve’s lips curve up into a half-smile. “I’m in your tab as Bladesy?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “He must have gotten in somehow. We’ll have to have TAI and CAL purge any remnants of his hijacking from both our tabs.” He leans back against the pillows. “I’m sorry I didn’t see your messages in time. I never got notifications for them. That was all such a mess.”

Maeve narrows her brows and shakes her head. “Don’t apologize, Aethon. I’m sorry. I was an idiot.”

"No way," he says. "It was a risk," he adds, raising his brows. "But you're not an idiot." He sits up and watches as Maeve turns away from him. She stares sightlessly at the doorway and worries her bottom lip with her teeth. Several strands of wine red hair have worked their way loose from her braid, and they fall softly around her face. She’s so beautiful. And she charged right into danger after him without a second thought.

Aethon reaches over and catches her chin, pulling her face over so that he can meet her eyes. “You’re a badass.” Her lips twitch and Aethon has to force himself not to kiss her. He remembers what she said last night - she’s not going to do this with him. He runs his fingers lightly across her jaw instead.

Maeve inhales shakily and leans into his touch. “A stupid badass though.”

“There’s always going to be danger,” he says. “Always. It’s the nature of our job.”

“It happened just how they always warned us,” she says, her voice hard. “And we’re not even -” Her jaw tightens. “He used you against me. And we’re not even -”

“I don’t know that the danger is actually more just because we’re hunting together,” he says.

She gives him an odd look, her gaze narrowing. Her eyes are the color of a sunlit forest on Freehail.

“Why did you come after me?” he asks. He slides his hand down to her shoulder where her scar is.

Maeve’s eyes widen and a look of incredulity passes across her features. She catches Aethon’s hand and entwines their fingers. Her hand is calloused in the same way as his - from working out and handling weapons. But her fingers slide easily between his - as though they belong there. “I know what Cho does to people,” she finally replies.

“That’s not a real answer,” he says.

“What do you want me to say?” she asks.

He rubs a hand over his face, frustration burning through him and tries to pull his hand out of Maeve’s grip. She just squeezes harder. “I want you to do what you threatened to do when you dragged the Menace out of the corona of that star,” Aethon growls. “Drop me on some planet. Fuck, eject me into space.”